California: Morro Bay

When I was stationed at Point Mugu, California in the mid-1970s, one of my favorite getaway destinations was Morro Bay. After 33 years, I was able to return there on March 28th. Of course it had changed, but much of it was as I remembered it – beautiful.

Reflected in the receding waves, Morro Rock is the landmark and iconic image of the area.

An hour or so later, the fog started rolling in.

Nearly hidden by the fog.

The sun is about ready to disappear behind the bank of fog, which could be seen for miles along the shoreline. There was no colorful sunset on this night!

Into the Mountains

Wednesday, April 6th - - After leaving Monahans Sandhills I continued west on I-20 about 130 miles to Van Horn where I turned north onto Texas Highway 54, which runs in-between several mountain ranges – the Boulder and Delaware are to the east while the Beach and Sierra Diablo rise up in the west.



The photos below were taken shortly after leaving Van Horn. These mountains were on the west side of the highway – a variety of interesting peaks.

Birthday Boy

Remember the Straw Brothers? Eric the elder just got older.There's no particular story here, just the very photogenic Eric did some climbing and I took some snaps.







I don't always go with the fall shot, but this one I think retains all the energy and body tensionof the move.I reckon if you hold that exact pose, but get a bit closer to the rock, you should be able to pull that move off.



Everyone deserves a Lei on their birthday.

The statistics on strangulation rates of tropical island belayers is higher than you might expect.

All the gang gobbled up this lush cake in his honour.

This is so typical II

I don't have TV anymore because I watched (loved) it too much. Since I canceled cable ten months ago, I haven't paid much attention to weather forecasts. And so far, it hasn't been much of a problem.

Until this week.

I left the house early Wednesday morning for a 2-day scouting trip. Uncharacteristically, I loaded the car the day before with every thing I thought I would need.

Microscope? Check. Pruning shears? Check. Toothbrush? Check. Long pants? Nope.

I didn't realize I had forgotten to grab a pair of jeans out of the dryer until I was heading north on the interstate. I really didn't think it would be a problem because I could simply wear my shorts both days.....but then the rain started. And the temperature quickly dropped from a balmy 70 degrees to a terrifying 49 degrees. Since I haven't checked a weather forecast since .., I didn't know how much colder it would get. But I knew I was not dressed appropriately.

I was going to look like a fool if I didn't get some pants, so I stopped at an outlet mall just off the interstate and bought the first pair of jeans that I found that were long enough. Wearing them out of the store, I thought, "Ah, crisis averted."

It rained the whole time I was on my trip. The constant chill and dampness made the palms of my hands take on a bluish tint.

Only my hands weren't cold.

In reality, my new, dark denim pants were wet and were staining everything with blue dye. Not only were my hands blue, but now my car interior is blue, too! Nice.

I did remember to pack my boots though!
I think there are two lessons that can be gleaned from this experience:
1. Always wash your jeans before you wear them.
2. Always pack at the last minute so you don't forget anything important. (ha!)
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Other than staining the light gray interior of my car, it was a good two days. As luck would have it, rain makes it easier for me to diagnose fungal diseases like Downy Mildew.

The white fluffy stuff on the underside of this rose leaf are the spores of Downy Mildew, caused by the fungus Peronospora sparsa. You can see why it has the specific epithet "sparsa":

Beartooth Highway

Yesterday I took a break from sorting and deleting photos from my hard drive and decided to follow U.S. Highway 212 from Red Lodge, Montana south into northern Wyoming. This route is also known as the Beartooth Scenic Byway or the Beartooth All-American Road, and, according to an acquaintance, Charles Kuralt put this highway on his list of the top 10 spectacular drives in America. It is also the highest elevation highway in the Northern Rockies. And, it definitely lives up to its reputation!

Looking northeast from Rock Creek Vista Point (elevation 9,190 feet) in the Custer National Forest, Montana. The highway is that ribbon of white way down in the valley.

Looking northwest from Rock Creek Vista Point. The speed limit was 25 mph along this stretch of winding switchbacks that traveled up the south side of the mountains.

The view to the north, a short distance from Rock Creek Vista.

From Rock Creek Vista, the road continued upward and into Wyoming where the peaks were viewed from across wide-open meadows.

Stopping at almost every overlook along the way, I was taken by surprise when I saw this view as the lake was not visible from the road. The wind was quite strong and several times I had to brace myself when a big gust came along.

Taken from near the summit (elevation 10,947 feet at Beartooth Pass) in Wyoming, looking towards the north. It was windy and cold, and the short walk to get this picture was quite exhilarating.

Passion Playing

Since my passionvine does not look like the photos of Passiflora 'Incense' from other sites like Tom Spencer's, it was apparently mismarked when I bought it a few years ago. I've been scrolling through a bunch of sites and think it may be either 'Amethyst' or 'Lavender Lady'... apparently they look quite similar, but 'Amethyst' can set fruit if pollinated by another passionflower.

Did you know there's an entire Passiflora Forum at GardenWeb? That forum sent me off to other sites. The sites don't agree with one another, of course, and only some of the photos look like each other. Before I started forum-hopping I'd taken closeups to see if any readers knew the name, while playing with the camera to see how it photographed the blues and purples.


I may have gone a little overboard with this! All photos were taken in afternoon so they're a bit washed out. All were cropped and reformatted for size, but that's all - no brightening, contrast, color balance, or sharpening. I took the photo above while the flower was still attached to the vine.

Then I popped off the flower and poked the stem into the passionvine to show the bud, leaf and flower.

Hmmm, let's see how it looks over here in the shade with the Buddleja lindleyana...

To me the color of the petals looks purple, with guard filaments that look blue. Let's put it in sun next to a true blue flower - the Blue Butterfly Pea. That blue makes the passionflower tendrils look deep violet, I think.


Okay, let's go back in the shade - will it still look blue next to Salvia guaranitica?

Now for dark purple contrast - the 'Black Prince' buddleya davidia. Oh, dear, the flower has been handled and dropped so many times by now!

A final portrait in the shade with light blue Plumbago auriculata. I love the way these flowers look together... maybe some plumbago needs to grow near the passionvine.

Total immersion in purple passion works for me! I hope you enjoyed it too. Maybe I should just call this one 'Probably Lavender Lady'. Pam from Digging commented that she just bought an 'Incense' - I'll bet hers will match the label.

Forbidden ..

Part III
"More To Go"

It was already lighter when we arrived at the notch. We watched headlamps from a party at the lower basin camp start up to Sahale or Sharkfin. (We never did see where they went.) We wondered if they had noticed our lights on the ridge and what they thought was going on.

Then Steve set about making himself comfortable and took a snooze. I was too uncomfortable to sleep at first and after jostling about in different positions finally took a nap. Steve said I even snored. I awoke a half hour later.

Nap time (photo by Steve Machuga)

Then we watched the sky turn beautiful colors as the sun rose. I ate a bag of dried fruit and nuts and Steve had a few granola bars. We weren't quite ready to get moving, so we lounged until the sun hit a feature we were calling "The Scottish Arete."

Having gotten some rest, we headed out slowly and methodically back down to camp. In our tired condition, we knew there would be a few cruxes on the way to camp. The first was getting around the chock stone at the top of the gully. This proved to be no issue and we were now making our way down the slabs and loose rock. We reached the bottom of the gully and got on the snow. Steve felt comfortable with a standing glissade. I put crampons on and walked quickly down the snow. (I just wasn't feeling confident in the boots I had chosen.)

We got back onto rock in the lower gully and navigated our way down to the next crux. On the way up we made an uncomfortable step onto the slab from a snow lip on the lower snowfield. I was sure there was no way to make this step after the previous day's melting. That would mean we would have a choice of climbing down either of two short waterfalls. When we arrived, Steve probed it out and made a step onto a lower portion of the final slab before making the big step out onto the snow. It didn't look that safe to me so I hesitated before finally making a large gentle step onto the snow. We crossed that short bit of snow and then gained the slabs again before jumping back onto snow down to camp.

Once in camp we quickly went about filtering water to drink. It was nice and cold snow melt and I drank enough to give me brain freeze. We lounged again at the stream dipping our feet in the water and dreading the coming hike out. After a while we made our way back to the tent to pack up and head out.

The flies were horrible at the tent and it made packing difficult. In my already weakened mental state the flies were the final straw. I was running about trying to kill any that came near me. It was an ordeal. We packed as quickly as possible and hoped that once we left the camp area we would be rid of the pesky insects.

Our hope faded as we had to negotiate a grassy moraine littered with Marmot dens and scat. The flies were even worse. There were brief moments hiking down the basin where there was a faint wind or even cooler temps and seemingly no flies. Then we would encounter another area, like the lower stream crossings and be swarmed again.

Once through the stream crossings we made it to the woods and through the avalanche debris fields. Constantly in and out of swarms of flies. At one point during the heaviest bushwhack area of the trail the flies were so thick I looked like Pig Pen from Peanuts with the swarm around me. Steve said he could see dozens landing all over his clothes. When we escaped that area, I told Steve I was close to a nervous breakdown. He said that me running down the trail screaming "Cannot stop! Must keep moving!" was a sign of a partial breakdown. I agreed and knew that the worst was behind us.

About 20 minutes later we were back at the car. We found a note from the rangers on the windshield stating "Steve and Gilbert: Your party has been reported passed due. Please check into the ranger station when you receive this note. A search party is being sent." We packed the car quickly and drank some more water before heading out.

The drive on Cascade River Road always seems longer than it should be. I understand that it is a 23 mile mostly dirt road with a 35mph speed limit, but it just seems to go on forever. Once out, we made right for the ranger station and reported in. We were told someone was just sent out to look for us and we presumed it was the ranger truck heading up the road as we came out. After leaving the ranger station we called our contacts to let them know we were alright. Apparently the rangers had gotten to that first in some cases. Then it was time for the long drive home.

This was another exciting experience in the mountains and was a good learning experience.

I think both Steve and I learned some lessons this weekend:

One of which is that the two of us actually get tired. (Which may be hard for others to believe.) I think if we had not done South Early Winter Spire on Saturday, the Forbidden trip would have played out completely different. We would have been fresh and moving faster without all the lethargic delays. I cannot say for sure this would have kept us on route during the climbing, but it probably would of had us moving faster on route, as well as the approach. It may also have made us more at ease with the rock quality and exposure.

Another lesson has to do with emergency contacts and when to call in a passed due. This was partially a flub because we had changed our plans a few times, so it wasn't exactly set in stone when we left Edmonds. That caused the timing to be off, and created a panic regarding our return time. In retrospect, it appears that Steve and I may not have even been on the same page regarding when authorities should be contacted. While Steve and I had no idea that a rescue was initiated, this incident has made me strongly consider the use of a Spot.

A funny thing about the "rescue" was that when we arrived at the ranger station the ranger behind the desk said they could have initiated the search earlier if we had used the climbing register. (We had neglected to, probably due to our fluid plans.) I thought at the time this was funny as I didn't even think the rescue needed to be initiated at all and that starting it earlier was a waste of time and resources.

The route itself was interesting. I don't know if I'd recommend it, as I was not a big fan of the rock quality. (Well, at least the quality of the protection.) It is also the sort of route people seek for the exposure, which is not a reason I usually seek out routes. There were only a few memorable climbing segments on the route, so it is also not a route to seek out if you want to get into some climbing. However, the setting is hard to beat with numerous 8000' peaks nearby and many small and a few large glaciers tucked here and there. I'd have to admit to loving downclimbing the ridge in the dark as well. It is truly spectacular to be on a beautiful mountain like Forbidden and watch the sun set, the stars rise, and eventually give way to the sun again. It was something we obviously didn't plan to do, but the trip was enriched because of it. It was a wonderful experience that I shall never forget.

I think I learned a few things about my ability to stay alert and focused after being up all of the night. (Partial thanks to Powerbar Gel with Caffeine.) I'll probably always look back on this trip fondly even though the result was not what Steve and I were looking for.

And Steve and I still have not done the West Ridge, so perhaps we'll have to go back for that and see if it lives up to the popularity.

Once again, pics are here.

The Clipless Ambush: a Tale of Failure

Well, my first encounter with clipless pedals occurred sooner than I anticipated. Last week the Co-Habitant decided to update his pedals, and the new set arrived in the mail today... which meant that he could gift me his old ones. I thought that surely this gifting would take place some time in the future - a distant, abstract future. But no. Cheerfully he attached them to one of our vintage roadbikes right then and there, so that I could give them a try. Don't get me wrong, I myself had expressed interest in this. But... I don't know, I just didn't expect it to happen immediately!



I already owned a pair of compatible shoes, having bought them on clearance last summer "just in case." With apprehension I watched him attach the cleats to the soles, trying to gauge the correct position. I then put them on and dragged the bike over to the kitchen sink, so that I could hold on to the edge with one hand as I tried to figure out how the contraptions worked.



I expected that clipping in would be relatively easy, but clipping out difficult. It was the opposite. At first I could not to clip in. I tried and tried, but my foot stayed on top of the pedal and the mechanism would not engage no matter how hard I pressed. I struggled to figure out what I was doing wrong, but the explanation turned out to be simple: I am a weakling. We had to loosen the tension almost to the max for my foot to engage the mechanism. Even after that, I still had trouble pressing down with enough force and in the exact position necessary for the cleat to catch. Clipping out, on the other hand, was intuitive: the sideways twist of the foot is exactly the same motion required to get out of Power Grips, so I found it natural.Transitioning from the kitchen sink to the trainer, I practiced for some time, clipping in and out successfully. I then decided it was time to go outside. I felt pretty confident at this point. Nothing to this.

It was around 10 pm and the small side street behind our house was well lit and empty of cars. Confidently, I carried the bike outdoors, swung my leg over the top tube, and clipped in my right foot. Now all I had to do was push off, coast for a bit, then put my left foot back down on the ground. That would be such an easy first step. No different from Power Grips. Just need to do it. Now. Go! But... it was not to be. Like some malfunctioning marionette, I kept clipping and unclipping my right foot, trying to mentally force myself to push off, but it wasn't working; nothing was happening. The amused Co-Habitant offered to stand at the end of the street and "catch me" if I found myself unable to unclip when I got there. But imagining that just made it worse. It began to feel as if I'd forgotten how to ride a bike entirely.

There is no redeeming ending to this story. After a good ten minutes I gave up and went back inside, my head hung low in shame. Obviously I am just not ready.

Aside from the tale of failure, I have some observations about the shoe and pedal set-up. I can't find the model name of the shoes, but in retrospect getting clipless shoes with laces was silly. Being stiff and unyielding, they are difficult to put on and tighten, and it's a pain to tuck the laces under the velcro. I am also not sure these pedals are right for me. They are Shimano SPD 520s: mountain bike style, double sided and with a very small surface area. I know that many love this type of pedal, but to me it felt like not enough of my foot was connected. Pedaling on the trainer, I had the sensation that there was too much pressure on the spot where the cleat meets the pedal and that a larger contact area would have been better. Maybe these particular shoes are not stiff enough, or maybe I would do better with a different style of pedals. There seems to be a consensus that the mountain bike clipless system is easier than the road system, but I wonder whether I might prefer the latter. Unfortunately, there is no way to try these things out.

Navigating the world of clipless shoes and pedals is complicated, and at the moment it seems best to postpone it... at least until I am brave enough to use the ones I have beyond the confines of my kitchen!

Casablanca (5.9), Art's Route (5.9), and the Problem of Tunnel Vision

In mid-July, I got the chance to climb with Maryana again, for the first time since April. I had been busy, and my available days hadn't matched up well with hers. I'd been forced to turn her down so many times it was a wonder she'd still speak to me.



In one sense we were still climbers of similar capabilities; we were both wading into Gunks 5.10 climbs. But in another sense we were different. Maryana was climbing more, and actually getting somewhere on these climbs. Since I'd last seen her Maryana had led Simple Stuff, Nosedive, and Birdcage. By contrast, I'd successfully onsighted the one-move Splashtic and backed off of every other 5.10 I tried.



I was excited to see what she could do when we got together. Unfortunately our time was short, and we both struggled with our warm-ups.



We were both interested in leading Wegetables, so we hiked on down to the far end of the Trapps. Maryana decided to start with Casablanca (5.9), a climb with a short, reachy roof crux that she'd struggled with once before.



This was a climb I had sent onsight, although I had to try reaching the jug in several different ways before I finally just popped for it and easily grabbed it. Maryana was thinking she'd probably solve it immediately this time around, since she'd improved as a climber so much over the last year or so since her last attempt.



But alas, she struggled again. She wormed around the big roof flake in several different ways, trying to reach the jug, but she just couldn't get it. One of the good things about Casablanca is that you can do this over and over again and never hang on your gear, because it is easy to step down to the stance beneath the flake. Maryana did this several times, but eventually took a hang or two on her cam in the flexy flake (it holds!).



Finally she tried something different, throwing a heel and getting over the roof, delicately reaching up until she had the good hold. Afterwards she said she felt like she'd approached the climb with tunnel vision, thinking there had to be a way she could reach the hold directly, since she'd seen others do it. If she'd considered the heel hook more quickly she surely would have sent it.



I had a few inches on Maryana and I could just pop for the hold, so I didn't give much thought to what she said, although perhaps I should have paid more attention.



Safety alert: there are still slings on the tree just over the lip on Casablanca. Please do not rap from this tree. It is DEAD. Maryana could move the tree with her hands. It is not safe. There is a larger, living tree with slings about 20-30 feet higher. We used doubles, tied together, to rap from this tree. A 70 meter would likely make it, but a single 60 probably won't. You should either do the climb with doubles or do the second pitch, so you can use the Casa Emilio raps or walk off.



After we rapped down, I suggested we try the nearby Casanova (5.9-), a no-star climb that goes through the roof at a different place. I looked the roof over on rappel and it looked pretty cool. But the climb was in the full-on sun and Maryana wisely wanted to look for shade on this hot hot day.



So I suggested Art's Route (5.9), a climb that Dick Williams upgraded to two stars in his 2004 guidebook. And on Art's Route I had a little tunnel vision episode of my own.



I got through the first crux, an awkward mantel over a low roof. It wasn't pretty and I used a knee but I will take it.



Then at the second crux, which involves getting over a bigger ceiling and into a notch, I thought I had it figured out. From underneath the roof, moving to the right for a second I could see a hold I needed to reach, and I also clipped a very useful fixed nut. Then, from back under the roof, I made the big move to reach the key hold on my first try.



I now know this is the hardest move on the pitch, but after I grabbed the key hold I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get myself over the roof and into the notch. I tried it over and over again, and every time I couldn't make it. I climbed down several times and after a while I started hanging on that fixed nut.



Finally I realized that like Maryana, I was suffering from tunnel vision. In my case it was literally true. I was looking only into the notch for holds. I was failing to try to find a hold outside the notch that I could use to pull myself up and into it. Once I realized this I got it on the first try, the climb was over, and I cursed myself for my stupidity. This could easily have been an onsight. Maryana ran right up it as the second.



Art's Route is just a short, single pitch, but it is a very nice climb with two very different, and pretty difficult, cruxes. I highly recommend it and I will be back to send it!







(Photo: Cowering under Wegetables, trying vainly to wait outa storm.)



Probably I will return to do it on a day in which I try Casanova and Wegetables as well. Maryana and I never got to do Wegetables. It grew overcast as we worked on Art's Route and it started pouring right as we arrived underneath Wegetables. We crouched there against the wall staying relatively dry for forty-five minutes, hoping the storm would pass without getting the climb wet. But as it continued and the rain came down harder and harder, we realized that not only was Wegetables in jeopardy, but that our whole day might be shot. Eventually the rain dripped through the roofs all over the climb and we gave up, marching out in the continuing downpour. We were thwarted after just two pitches.



While we stood there I looked over the climb and gained a renewed hunger for coming back to lead it. I remembered the tough spots and I think I still have the beta in mind to send the thing. I need to have a good autumn with lots of splitter weather so I can come back and conquer these 5.9's and 5.10's that are piling up, waiting for me.

Camo

I'm about to leave for a gardening conference and don't have time to look up this caterpillar. If you know the ID, feel free to leave a comment. See you next week!

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In the meantime, check out I and the Bird!