A Project That Should Float

  

Today I have been obsessing about rowboats.  I am not much of an ocean person, or I suppose even a water person in general, so it may fairly be considered an odd thing to be pondering.  Without climbing partners, though, my mind is prone to wandering.

Probably about a year ago my friend Ian was telling me that he was considering building a wood strip water craft.  I assumed that he meant a canoe, but in fact he said he would rather build a row boat.  To back up a bit, I met Ian at work, where his renovation grew into a big beautiful custom build.  He and Catherine, his partner, are clients like I never expect to have again.  On the build Ian was around most of the time, and I enjoyed working with him a great deal.  Anyhow, after our conversation once in a while the idea of building a row boat has crept into my head.

To build the row boat Ian had planned to purchase a kit, which includes all the instructions and materials necessary to complete the job.  Not a bad idea, but to me it is a bit more like putting together a jig saw puzzle rather than actually learning to build a boat.  On the other hand, I have little inclination to mill the bead and cove into thousands of board feet of strips, either.  Purchasing the strips seems to me to be the way ahead, and taking the time to learn the process of constructing the moulds and creating the constituent pieces seems more deeply satisfying.

I have been thinking about all the furniture that I would build when I am back, so it is odd to make the leap toward building a boat.  I think what attracts me to both the row boat and furniture building is the fact that I am doing it just for the sake of it, and when it is done there is something beautiful to enjoy.  For the boat, though, I also get to enjoy the company of friends.  I found that my friend and business partner Okko is interested as well, which would make for a party of three.  Obviously, as much as this is about building a boat, it is about having an excuse to spend time with people I like.  Also, Daniele has been keen on building some chairs, which would easily be done along side and be a great way for us to spend time together as well.

For all of this I think that it will not be something that I leap right after when I get home.  Unfortunately work will have to take the lead, and the materials for the boat won't come cheap.  Also, there is the logistics of where the boat will be built, and the fact that I haven't even floated the idea with Ian, chosen a boat, etc.  I will actually probably end up building some furniture first just because of the financial factor and that there is free material sitting in Okko's garage.  All that said I hope to get it going in a few months.  I think it will be fun.  After all, I met all three people through building in one way or another, so why not keep building together?

Playing With Blocks

I think that I have just about always traded leads.  If I have ever lead in blocks it has because one or the other partner has been much stronger and that it has been sensible in order to climb fast or get past a crux section.  The odd thing is that swinging leads is actually quite a bit less sensible than leading in blocks, especially in the mountains.  This is, of course, not new territory.  Strong climbers have been using this method overwhelmingly to eat up terrain on big routes, and have been telling the rest of us that it is the right thing to do.  It is interesting, then, that not many people put this advise into practice.

Lots of Terrain Complete, Lots Yet to Come

On the Ginat Graham and I traded leads for basically the entire route that we were not simul-climbing.  Dane's most recent blog about gear slings and not dropping gear made me thing about this.  When I look at it critically, just in the time that it took to trade gear on a pitch by pitch basis we would have been climbing a lot faster to have lead in blocks.  

Firstly, when leading in the alpine it is rare on most routes to place the majority or even half of your gear on any given pitch.  This means that at the end of a pitch the person who lead it remains the person with the most gear, and as such less gear need be given back in order to send them out on the next pitch.  Less chance of dropping gear, less time spent trading gear back and forth.

Next, by the time the second reaches the leader, including the time that it takes the leader to build an anchor, the leader is usually recovered.  I know for myself, by the time the second gets to me I have recovered.  By the time the second has switched to lead and climbed the next pitch I have been cold for quite a while.  Trading 60 meter pitches when it is cold seems more sensible than trading every 120 meters between the leading and following.

Getting Cold

Finally, and possibly most importantly, leading in blocks is good for the mental game. The leader can get in the correct head space and stay there for their block, and then relax mentally and follow during the block of seconding.  When you swing leads even as a second you are thinking about what the next pitch will bring on your lead, and are thus expending mental energy for the whole climb.

I think I may know why the swinging leads approach is predominant.  It is because it is simple.  The route needs no analysis, no planning.  New pitch means new leader.  On the other hand, if on the Ginat we had just lead in blocks it is possible that one person would have lead all the easy 60 degree stuff while the other would have lead all the cruxy stuff. Thus, if you are planning to lead in blocks and have it equitable then it is necessary to plan your approach for the route ahead of time, or plan to adapt if you you don't know what the route will hold.  Either way I think it would provide a more expedient, less taxing method for many routes.

Take Two

The second effort on the Ginat proved much more successful. We actually got it done!  It felt longer than I expected, but the technical difficulties were quite manageable and I could be more fit at the moment.   We had planned the climb knowing that the weather forecast was for mildly unstable weather, which recently in Cham has meant local cloud and no precipitation.  It would manifest a bit differently on the climb, however.

Looking down the mixed traverse

We had climbed probably 2600ft when I looked over at the Aiguille Verte and saw a thunder tower cloud building rapidly.  It was looking as if the we were about to enjoy the 'slight chance of afternoon thunder showers' predicted on Chamonix-Metéo.  Not having the luxury of just dropping off and going home easily, we decided to climb through it and get off the back side raps.  For the rest of the day we took a pretty decent beating from snow and spindrift, making our climbing painfully slow.  The thunder and lightening did nothing to relax my spirits either.  The climbing on the final headwall was interesting however, the mixed traverse being the most interesting to me.

Graham enjoying the snow and spindrift

When we finally topped out the 'crux pitch' it was late, and having heard that the rappels can be a pain to find (which they are not), I suggested that we bivy in a somewhat sheltered rocky outcropping.  The night was the most miserable bivy I have had thus far.  No sleeping bag, tied in, down-sloping ledge, cold - I checked the watch every 10 minutes from 10pm to 5am.  Every time I would nod off my brain would recognize my situation and I would awake with a start.

Our home for the night

Final snow slope

The following morning we topped out in nice sunshine and began the raps.  On the first rap the rope got stuck and Graham has to climb back up and free it - a real pain.  The rest went fine, though being low angled the ropes were constantly tangling.  The bergshrund at the bottom of the route was quite formidable, as was the post-holing down to the Vallée Blanche.  On the initial snow slopes the snow was so isothermal that it was impossible to say whether whether we were post holing or sinking into slots on any given step.  I guess that's what the rope is for...

Graham on the first rap

Fortunately despite our post holing we caught the last telepherique to the train and were down in valley bottom in good time.  Hitching back up to the car at the Grands Montets I got beta on the best little rock climbing spots in Cham, how great is this place?

North Face Grandes Jorasses

On the descent and afterwards I have been reflecting upon the experience.  The odd thing to admit is that  the trip was only partly fun as normal people understand it.  I started off tired as we were on trail by 2am, and after waking up some had fun until the weather came in, which dampered my enthusiasm a bit.  Add to that a cold bivy, and a sun-baked slog out the next day... why do I like this stuff?  The other strange part is that on the descent we got a great view of the north face of the Grandes Jorasses and I realized I was hungry for it, even then.  The Ginat was the route I had really wanted to get done on this trip, you'd think I would rest on my laurels a bit.  Instead I was looking for somewhere to get myself another exhausting difficult day out.  Apparently the glass can never be entirely full.

Take One

I suppose that I should begin by pointing out that we didn't complete the Ginat.  It was a mixed success though, if I look at it through a positive lense.  Some good climbing was had, and some lessons were learned.  Hard to complain when you can say that after a safe day in the mountains.

We bivied in the hallway in the Grand Montets, and left for the route at about 3:15.  The approach is through a fairly broken section of glacier, and then a bit of an uphill snow slog to the bergshrund.  After the initial neve/ice slope, which went very quickly and easily at 50/60 degrees, we arrived at the beginning of the technical climbing.  It was still dark, and we had to choose from two possible lines of ascent.  The left one was a narrow runnel with a thin section, and the right was wider and looked somewhat easier.  Since they looked as if they probably met up we headed up the easier looking line, with Graham taking the first pitch.  He climbed slowly, and when I followed I understood why.  He had placed only a single peice in 45 or 50 meters that would have stopped him.  The anchor was a good v-thread.

I took over for the second pitch.  The climbing began with a delicate traverse over the belay, up a thin neve/ice runnel, and then generally reasonable mixed with good placements for tools and a few delicate moves out a full 60 meters.  It was well light by this point as I had also been climbing slowly.  I had placed a couple screws, but nothing that would have stopped me, so it deserved the time it got.  When I reached the belay, however, I could look across and see the well beaten track in the left hand gully, and how much easier it was than what we had just climbed.  By the time Graham climbed up to the belay we faced a bit of a conundrum.  Should we push a bit higher and see if we could link it to the Ginat by traversing left when possible?  Should we try a diagonal rappel to get into the left hand gully?  Should we rappel and climb the proper gully?  Should we bail?

While it was possible that we would be able to link up with the Ginat from where we were, we didn't know the terrain that well and were not that inclined to climb any more unprotected pitches.  That we were getting anchors was making the climbing tolerable, but that could just as easily have changed with further climbing.  The diagonal rap would have been quite interesting.  It would have been a rope stretcher to get over there and a good long pendulum if you slipped up.  We decided to bail because even  if we had planned to hop straight back on route after our raps we were not liking our time line.  The best choice was to chalk it up to a learning experience and head down.

Being that I put a considerable amount of mental energy into the route, it was a definite disappointment.  I wanted very much to get up the route, and felt we could have.  On the other hand, I am happily no longer intimidated by the route.  It is long, to be certain, but having completed the pitches we did gives me confidence that I could send it.  Since the Ginat attempt we also got up the crux of the Supercouloir, another Cham classic.  It was in difficult shape, with no ice in the crux pitch(es), but Graham lead it proudly.  Unfortunately we were a party of three, and not all of us wanted a long day which might have resulted from climbing the easy upper ice pitches, so yet another route in Cham went without completion.  Tough one, I would like to climb it when there is ice in the first pitch, and definitely finish off the upper tiers.

In the end I think that I can be happy with the fact that these routes are taking the mystery out of Chamonix for me.  I may be failing often, but I am learning the game and gaining confidence, if not as quickly as I might have hoped.  The nice thing is that I may get another crack at the Ginat with Graham. Weather has conspired against his rock climbing trip, and so he may be around for the sequel.  I don't mind learning through failure, but the odd success now and again can be a good ballast for the ego.

Before the Route

Today I made plans to climb the Ginat on the North Face of Les Droites on Sunday.  It is the route that I most want to get done while here in Chamonix, and I have no doubt that I will do it.  I also know that I will obsess about it until it is done, and over think every little section of the climb and the descent until it is complete.  It is an interesting mental process that I put myself through.  There is not a part of the route which will be any more challenging than what I have done before, but it is difficult to bring confidence to this obsessive pondering.

The North Face of Les Droites is at the far right of the picture.

I recently petitioned a friend who is a psychologist for some literature on fear.  It is, as you might imagine, a commonly discussed subject in the climbing world.  I think that a major reason most climbers climb (maybe outside the sport climbing world) is to explore fear.  And yet relatively few do so in a deliberate manner.  The mainstream opinion is to 'man-up' and climb, but is that really a solution?  On route, when you are afraid, it is of course important to learn to focus through your fear and produce.  Better yet would be to learn to be confident in your abilities and to spend less time afraid.

The '(wo)man-up' approach also completely fails to address the apprehension felt in anticipation of a climb.  Before a route you have lots of little details to consider, and it is much easier to do so when you are not distracted.  My hope is that a deliberate study in my apprehension will mean that I don't have to carry such a mental burden in anticipation of a route, that I will actually be able to look forward to it.  I love to climb, and plan to do so forever, so it seems a very worthwhile investment of my time.

A Fear of Commitment...

Climbing as a sport provides many opportunities to measure performance.  Success might be the fast ascent of a difficult route, or safely completing any route in difficult conditions.  Either way if you are not up to the task in the mountains you certainly can not hide the fact.  Chamonix is probably the best place in the world to hone your skills due to the easy access to so many difficult routes of such a high caliber.  The mountains remain serious despite their accessibility, and the pure lines are imposing and require confidence and efficiency.

Having travelled for several months before coming here was good for my technical rock climbing, not so good for the fitness.  I know I am not in the sort of shape to run up the routes as so many of the locals do, a fact which does not lend itself easily to committing to a route at the edge of my abilities.  Of course, the other half of the equation is your climbing partner.  A strong and competent partner breeds confidence, a hesitant, less fit, or less skilled partner can very easily sap one's enthusiasm.  For me climbing at my limits requires that I focus mostly upon myself, and trust that my partner is able to carry half of the burden.  If I have to worry about my partner then it makes focusing on the climbing much more difficult for me.  In these cases I always have a fear of getting on a long difficult route, of getting committed and being the one who will have to perform if things don't go as planned.

I often think about this phenomenon.  Surely it is natural, but just as surely it is not universal.  There are a considerable number of people guiding difficult routes with clients of very limited experience. Routes that have high levels of commitment with the very realistic possibility of problems.  Outside of the guiding world, most climbing relationships are unequal.  The ideal is that the inequality is complementary (one a stronger rock climber, the other better on ice, for example).  Things not always being ideal means that most often the responsibility to perform will land more on one person than the other.  Having discovered that I don't like to be that person has led me to wonder why.

If you come to the mountains to measure yourself mentally and physically, why would you not want to see that you can perform when the chips are down?  The obvious answer is fear.  I might head into the mountains expecting to scare myself, but only so much.  Deep down I want to manage my level of commitment.   The problem with this acknowledgement is either you have to temper your ambitions or you have to set about figuring out how to change that hesitant part of your nature.  At the beginning of my trip I didn't which way I would go, and now I do.  I have decided to commit, and that decision is already affecting my thoughts in a positive way.  It just means that there is a lot to learn, and a lot more work to do.

Ambitious and Easygoing?

I have noticed that I have two rather contradictory aspects to my personality.  On the one hand, I tend to think that the best way to deal with most situations is to be relaxed and easygoing.  On the other, I am really ambitious and have many significant goals which will be difficult to attain.  What I have realized is that I need to be cognizant of the choice of approach I take to any situation.  Of course it is always more easy to be compliant, but will you be satisfied with the result of that choice?

When I began working in the trades the it rapidly became clear to me that you had to develop a thick skin.  People don't mince words, and you need to be prepared to hear people express themselves.  I also learned that it was easy to deal with most situations with a relaxed attitude, and that those who make an issue of everything are in a constant state of war.  When I had to manage a site, however, I learned that being relaxed about everything is not always good.  While it was distasteful to have to make demands of people, I learned to because I felt a responsibility to the home owners to see that they were treated fairly.  Always a balancing act.  In the end I have become comfortable with it because if you are open about what you need, you can generally come to a consensus and move ahead.

As far as climbing goes, I think I have yet to learn that lesson.  The world of climbing is at least as full of personality as the construction industry, and everyone has their aims.  Having been traveling and climbing with many different people over the last several months, it has become clear that if you do not set out your objectives and begin pursuing them, then you will be working in support of someone else's.  This may sound somewhat negative, but I actually don't fault any of my climbing partners for seeking to pursue their goals.  I just need to do the same.  The best experiences to be had in the mountains or at the crags are when that consensus has been achieved and goals begin to be realized.  The trick, I think, is to be direct with your ambitions, and then listen to those of your partners'.  There is probably more than enough room to satisfy both parties.  After all, everyone is playing the same game.