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
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Smith Rockin' It
Our first stop on the trip and already way too much to talk about. We've been living in our little Jelly Bean at Smith Rock State Park with a whole slew of climbing bums. Clean water, flushing toilets, pic-nic benches and best of all... a very low rent. To tell the truth we haven't spent much on anything aside from beer and food; the essentials of life.
The park is a mecca of sport climbing with ample bouldering and traditional climbing. This area is known as the birthplace of American Sport Climbing and the routes and access are proof of this. The approach to the climbing area is a minute long bike ride and then a 10 minute walk. Needless to say we have stunning cliffs right at out doorstep.
The climbing has been stellar and we are both pumped about getting stronger. Sending my first 5.12's and leading my first 5.10 miltipitch trad route gives me a huge amount of confidence for the time to come. The only issue staring us in the face is our inability to wake up early in the morning. This does, however, mean that we've been living a pretty casual life... climbing when we please and being in the company of good peeps. Lots of them... from all over the world... and generaly with a good sense of humor.
We've been kickin' it with the locals and have reaped the benefits of being outgoing I'd say. Homecooked meals, hot tubs, and capable tour guides. It seems to me that the people make the place and in the case of Smith... the place kicks ass.
We've gotten to do some pretty nutty things here... and soon enough we will have the photos to back it up.
On the back side of the park is a 250 ft spire that is split off from the main cliff. This spire is known for its profile shot; which looks like a monkey's face. There are two caves on the spire, one is the mouth and the other would be in the back on the head. We managed to set up a slackline inbetween the mouth of the monkey and the main cliff which is a 35ft span with an exposed 200ft drop below you. Regardless of the fact that the person walking it is tethered in to the reduntant line the feeling of exposure is overwhelming. The first three steps put your heart in your throat and an intesity in your eyes that I've never felt before. I managed to walk the line back and forth on two occasions without falling and bruising myself to pieces like some others. The offshoot of having the line set up was that we had constant access to the top of the Monkey's face. Meaning that with a little work we could spend a night in the monkey's head. A large cave protected from the wind by large boulders. Boulders that happened to wind up being "trundled" over the edge.
The logistics of ascending fixed lines and repelling into the cave are fairly complicated... the logistics of doing this in complete darkness are therefore a little more un-nerving. Regardless, we managed to get five people, all of our gear and most importantly a case of beer. Which, due to circumstances unforseen by Charlie and I led to the two of us killing a vast majority of the case. In the end it was one of the most comfortable sleeps of the trip and one of the most uncomfortable mornings due to the lack of lavatory. Probably the coolest things I've done in my life.
The stories go on and on. We'll update you with some photos and maybe a a post with some more thought put into it.
So far I haven't been able to wipe the smile off of my face... for oh so many reasons.
-Thomas Sloss
The park is a mecca of sport climbing with ample bouldering and traditional climbing. This area is known as the birthplace of American Sport Climbing and the routes and access are proof of this. The approach to the climbing area is a minute long bike ride and then a 10 minute walk. Needless to say we have stunning cliffs right at out doorstep.
The climbing has been stellar and we are both pumped about getting stronger. Sending my first 5.12's and leading my first 5.10 miltipitch trad route gives me a huge amount of confidence for the time to come. The only issue staring us in the face is our inability to wake up early in the morning. This does, however, mean that we've been living a pretty casual life... climbing when we please and being in the company of good peeps. Lots of them... from all over the world... and generaly with a good sense of humor.
We've been kickin' it with the locals and have reaped the benefits of being outgoing I'd say. Homecooked meals, hot tubs, and capable tour guides. It seems to me that the people make the place and in the case of Smith... the place kicks ass.
We've gotten to do some pretty nutty things here... and soon enough we will have the photos to back it up.
On the back side of the park is a 250 ft spire that is split off from the main cliff. This spire is known for its profile shot; which looks like a monkey's face. There are two caves on the spire, one is the mouth and the other would be in the back on the head. We managed to set up a slackline inbetween the mouth of the monkey and the main cliff which is a 35ft span with an exposed 200ft drop below you. Regardless of the fact that the person walking it is tethered in to the reduntant line the feeling of exposure is overwhelming. The first three steps put your heart in your throat and an intesity in your eyes that I've never felt before. I managed to walk the line back and forth on two occasions without falling and bruising myself to pieces like some others. The offshoot of having the line set up was that we had constant access to the top of the Monkey's face. Meaning that with a little work we could spend a night in the monkey's head. A large cave protected from the wind by large boulders. Boulders that happened to wind up being "trundled" over the edge.
The logistics of ascending fixed lines and repelling into the cave are fairly complicated... the logistics of doing this in complete darkness are therefore a little more un-nerving. Regardless, we managed to get five people, all of our gear and most importantly a case of beer. Which, due to circumstances unforseen by Charlie and I led to the two of us killing a vast majority of the case. In the end it was one of the most comfortable sleeps of the trip and one of the most uncomfortable mornings due to the lack of lavatory. Probably the coolest things I've done in my life.
The stories go on and on. We'll update you with some photos and maybe a a post with some more thought put into it.
So far I haven't been able to wipe the smile off of my face... for oh so many reasons.
-Thomas Sloss
Monday, August 11, 2008
August 9th, 2008. Booty Call
i just got home from the most epic day of climbing. thomas and i played hooky yesterday so we could go up to whistler and climb the showcase spire. we thought that the chairlifts on blackcomb would still be open, as they usually are all summer, it turns out blackcomb mountain closed to the public on july 27. for about 2 and half hours we tried to find a way up blackcomb, we decided hiking 5,500 vertical feet before a 5.11c alpine multipitch was out of the question. on our last effort to get up the mountain before we were going to head out to pemberton to sport climb we met a blackcomb snowmachine maintenance guy who took us about 4/5 of the way to the summit of blackcomb. we had to hike then for about an hour up through snow and summer glacier conditions to reach the showcase spire, our climb de' jour. luckily we found some cord and ski poles to aid our adventure.
the base of the spire is located about 70m from the edge of the cliff we hiked to so we rigged a 70m and 60m rope together and double rapped down to the base. i won the rock,paper,scissors so i got to rap and lead first. i got to the base, found a old petzl pulley (booty!) and got psyched to climb the 25m 5.11c first pitch. thomas built an anchor when he arrived at the belay ledge and put me on belay. the crux was, for me, the first 4 bolts with a pretty high first bolt with serious groundfall potential. i got a bomber .4 cam placement to protect before the high first bolt (it turned out the 2 cams from our rack we chose to bring were pieces that we had great placements for!) i pumped out at the 4th bolt, taked, rested and then climbed to the anchors on the next burn; almost onsight. i rigged an extremely slow, messy, and less than equalized anchor and thomas seconded. he got up to me and then went for the lead of pitch 2 (he left the station about 10 minutes after our turnaround time; the first of our logistical problems). we had the single sketchiest moment of our lives with me shorting thom on the first clip of the pitch, if he had fallen he would have taken a leader fall directly onto our anchors creating a factor 2 fall which is very bad - something you never want to happen because it could shock load the anchor and cause it to fail. he took after he stuck the clip but couldn't go on. at this point we are 25 minutes passed our turnaround time 1 pitch off the ground without our 70m rope to do a tyrolean traverse which he had planned on doing to escape the spire (because of logistical problems: our rope being to short we couldn't take it with us), we are low on blood sugar, stokage, and getting scared. we we're alone on the side of an alpine route on the summit of blackcomb. we used some good judgement, rather than succumbing to summit fever, and bailed there leaving one wiregate biner. not bad for bailing off an alpine route. we had to rig 2 30m raps to get off the spire down into a gulley which we could hike out on to get back to the top of the cliff to retrieve our other 2 ropes. after we got back to cliff we had a 3 hour +, 5,500 vertical feet over like 14km, hike down from the summit of blackcomb to the base where we were parked. we got back to our van and crashed!
that is the craziest adventure of my life, and we didnt even have to summit!
the base of the spire is located about 70m from the edge of the cliff we hiked to so we rigged a 70m and 60m rope together and double rapped down to the base. i won the rock,paper,scissors so i got to rap and lead first. i got to the base, found a old petzl pulley (booty!) and got psyched to climb the 25m 5.11c first pitch. thomas built an anchor when he arrived at the belay ledge and put me on belay. the crux was, for me, the first 4 bolts with a pretty high first bolt with serious groundfall potential. i got a bomber .4 cam placement to protect before the high first bolt (it turned out the 2 cams from our rack we chose to bring were pieces that we had great placements for!) i pumped out at the 4th bolt, taked, rested and then climbed to the anchors on the next burn; almost onsight. i rigged an extremely slow, messy, and less than equalized anchor and thomas seconded. he got up to me and then went for the lead of pitch 2 (he left the station about 10 minutes after our turnaround time; the first of our logistical problems). we had the single sketchiest moment of our lives with me shorting thom on the first clip of the pitch, if he had fallen he would have taken a leader fall directly onto our anchors creating a factor 2 fall which is very bad - something you never want to happen because it could shock load the anchor and cause it to fail. he took after he stuck the clip but couldn't go on. at this point we are 25 minutes passed our turnaround time 1 pitch off the ground without our 70m rope to do a tyrolean traverse which he had planned on doing to escape the spire (because of logistical problems: our rope being to short we couldn't take it with us), we are low on blood sugar, stokage, and getting scared. we we're alone on the side of an alpine route on the summit of blackcomb. we used some good judgement, rather than succumbing to summit fever, and bailed there leaving one wiregate biner. not bad for bailing off an alpine route. we had to rig 2 30m raps to get off the spire down into a gulley which we could hike out on to get back to the top of the cliff to retrieve our other 2 ropes. after we got back to cliff we had a 3 hour +, 5,500 vertical feet over like 14km, hike down from the summit of blackcomb to the base where we were parked. we got back to our van and crashed!
that is the craziest adventure of my life, and we didnt even have to summit!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
The Road to Getting on the Road
A 1984 Volkswagen Vanagolf Westfalia. That's what we got... and she's glorious! After a long search for a vehicle that is worthy of our trip we stumbled upon this cute genius of German engineering. She belonged to a friends family and had already completed a similar journey, with different intentions mind you, on many occasions. The circumstances were right and she joined the trip... now Charlie and I are both, quite literally, "on the bus". Still in need of some minor aesthetic tune-ups we almost have her at a point where we can leave at any moment. The only thing left to do seems like finding a fitting name for her. For me she's my Little Jelly Bean, for Charlie... a plain and simple shaggin' wagon.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Rugmunching Mrs. Negative
May 24th - Cheakamus Canyon
"Sweet this truck will totally rock this hill," I say to Thomas. On nearly every occasion climbing at Chek canyon, the road (which appears more like a XC mountain bike trail than a road) that connects the highway to the crag proves to be a battle for our vehicles. Thomas's Dad's Ford Ranger chugs up the hill nearing the crest, which happens to have ruts and holes a foot plus deep. I stall the truck. Well the truck could handle the road, it turns out though, you have to be able to drive it. After another effort we make it up.
Chek is a wonderful, beautiful place. The plethora of cliffs, crags and climbers that comprise Chek are each unique and interesting in their own ways. As per usual Thom and I b-line straight to the Forgetten Wall to climb Low Impact, one of the most fun .10b's we've climbed. I climb it slow and with hesitation, but I find all the holds that I pulled off of last season, and cruise to the top. I ask Thomas if he wants to climb it;' he slips his excruciatingly small slippers over his excruciatingly swollen ankle and cruises the route on TR.
As per usual we proceed 15m up to scree slope to Rugmunchers - 5.11d. We remember how close we were to sending last season and how dialed we had the moves. Needless to say we came back with determination. On my third attempt rugmunching, I focused on the route, chose my beta, committed, and sent. The weight of the rope and the chatter in my mind, replaced by the sound of my breathing, and the smell of Quebecois smokers. For me, perfect sending conditions. Thomas, more determined than ever to send, gave the strongest burn I've ever seen him give: he committed for the moves impeccably but pumped out just below the last bolt. C'est la vie.
We hobble back to the truck and prepare a fantastic dinner meanwhile hacking the sack with some yankees. After dinner we make the decision to build on our foundation so we head over to the Foundation Wall and climb another 3 pitches: Polychronopolous 5.10d, Mystery 5.9, and the Flaming Arête 5.7. It got dark, I lowered Thomas over a ledge; we couldn't climb any more.
The Chek traditon: make a campfire, have a sing-along, and get drunk with the other climbers camping at Chek. Our friends Martin and Abby who are here with some friends of theirs - a group of young doctors - who joined us for the tradition. I feel safe; if anyone gets alcohol poisoning, poison ivy, sprains their ankle, etc. it will be just another day at the office for the docs. The doc's taught us some important lessons: don't get married to a person your not into, water makes scotch like more better, and there is no ethical dilemma about being born in an affluent nation. In true Thomas fashion, he pulls out his new git-ar and proceeds to shred some gnar. The new git-box gently weeps for the rest of the evening.
The worst sleep of his life. I sleep great. The bed of the Ranger is 6' even. Thomas stands 6' 3", now there is a real dilemma, a solution to the 3" dilemma will be requisite for Thomas to be able to sleep.
May 25.
I wake up sweaty and tired - the canopy on the truck is air tight and makes a pretty warm little oven. Thomas gets up, stiff and unhappy about having to contort himself for hours on end. We eat some breakfast, I find my balls, and then we head out to climb
The day was off to a fine start. We had done a “multipitch” climb, the weather is great and we are about to get a lot of energy out of our thank-god-we’re-alive squirrely bread sandwiches. We leave the truck in the sun and hike into the shade of the short shady trees sheltering most of the approach to the majority of the crags. We have the intention to climb Kjijushi 5.10c. The guide book gives it 5 stars and describes it as 27.5m of fun, featured, pocketed, granite, with the bolts spreading out at the top, and directly under on of the most overhanging crags at Chek. How could we lose? To my not-so-surprise a group of climbers were on it and looked to be there for a while. Thomas recommends we go try Timberqueen 5.12c.
Thomas battles the Queen many times, but neither of are the King today. Many times his falls pull me off my not-so-bomber belay stance and lower him back to the ground just from his leverage. I strain just to get off the ground, where I then fall or back down.
30 minutes later; completely humbled by the Timberqueen we decide to find a route a little more near our abilities. However the feeling of being humbled just to leave the ground is a good one. I think it’s called learning.
The rock gods are with us because as we leave Timberqueen, Kirijushi is free. We high tail it to the base, play a few matches of rock paper scissors, then I tie into the sharp end of the rope. I cruise up to the 3rd bolt and then get totally lost. I go up right, that isn’t the best way, so I climb back down, then a little more left, but that isn’t right. Each time I realize a particular sequence won’t work for me I climb back down to a good stance, shake out, and then try again. Finally I figure out I have to traverse left and then attack the route head on. I break through and climb up to the top. For me it is a battle to know whether what I am doing is right, but it has to be right for me because I onsight it. Thomas lowers me back down, giddy to get on Kijijushi, seeing as it took me only 15-20 minutes to get up it! He has my beta and cruises the route. Thomas knows it's time to get on a 5.12, I am tired. We head back toward the truck to a crag called the Negative Wall to climb Mrs. Negative 5.12a. It is short, bouldery, and already has draws hanging. Thomas won the rock paper scissors and takes the first lead. He pulls strong on the steep holds. Thom figures out some wicked beta near the top from a OK pocket to a jug. He makes it to the top on his onsite but what’s more is he made it look really fun. Regardless of being tired after a long weekend of climbing, day 10 on doing sports I have to get on it. I tie in, and get in the zone. I focus, rehearse Thomas’ beta in my mind and the commit. As per usual for today I lose focus at one point and get completely lost and take a fall. I focus in again and make it to the chains in another burn.
I am stoked! Then the pressure changed and we felt a few drops of rain. We call it a day and hit the dusty trail.
Back at the truck we finish the black bean and corn salsa (which is awesome!) and drink our end of the day beer and orchard peach cider. Great first weekend back climbing rocks!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
First Things First
So as you may already know Charlie Long and I (Thomas Sloss) will be departing for a climbing trip at the end of this Summer. The trip will take us along the west coast of the United States, through the central US and then into Central America. The goal is to climb as much as possible while never turning down an opportunity for adventure. Along with our climbing efforts we will be taking part in humanitarian aid in various places along the way. However, first things first. We need to get the necessary items in order... first on that list is a van. We'll keep you posted as the lead up to the trip continues and we finally get on our way. Climbing rocks!
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