SUMMARY HAIKU
That ain't no walk-off
Brutal heat, pushed to our edge
Third pair of undies found
That ain't no walk-off
Brutal heat, pushed to our edge
Third pair of undies found
START & END TIMES:
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DATE: August 3, 2019
WALLS HIT: 1 (Caligula Crag) (2 walls if we count our second failed attempt at Winter Heat...) NUMBER OF CLIMBS: 1 NUMBER OF PITCHES: 1 NUMBER OF FALLS: 0 NUMBER OF TAKES: 0 VERTICAL FEET CLIMBED TODAY: 30 TOTAL VERTICAL FEET ON THE TOUR SO FAR: 1,280 NUMBER OF CLIMBS REMAINING: 216 VERTICAL FEET REMAINING: ~ 48,805 DIRTY UNDERWEAR ENCOUNTERED: 1 DIRTY UNDERWEAR ENCOUNTERED TO DATE: 3 |
The Route
Climb: Hefner (Trad) (5.7)
Conclusion WTF? What the FRAIL!
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Winter Heat Wall - "Failed" Attempt #2
Damn it. We walked all this way again, all the way around the backside of Kraft Mountain, to do the climbs on Winter Heat Wall. Our first try was on Day 4 (our double WTF'r Day). On Day 4, we thought Winter Heat would still be in the shade, but by the time we arrived, it was well in the sun.
Today, we planned to hit Calligula first thing, since we knew it would receive sun very early, then move onto Winter Heat. When we left Caligula, we saw that Winter Heat was still in the shade, but by the time we arrived, the sun was full-on. |
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The hike up through the canyon took a while and the heat was already oppressive. After resting and eating a snack in the shade, we set up to do the first climb. It was about 9 a.m. and felt hotter than any day we've encountered thus far. There was no breeze near the wall and the black petina was already warm to the touch.
There are two climbs, but three pitches. We realized there was no way we would get both climbs done and would have to come back yet again. We decided not to torture ourselves further and knew, if it was already this hot, the hike back to the car would be worse. We decided to bail.
This was a very difficult decision for me (Stef). I really did not care for the idea of coming back to Winter Heat - yet again. I didn't like having expended all this effort, then not climbing. I was frustrated by yet another "one-off" day, where we completed one not-so-great 30-foot climb with a bull-shit scary down-climb. I was tempted to push us to do the Winter Heat climbs anyway. I was tempted to say "fuck the heat," believing we would be happy afterwards.
But then, I looked at Althea panting in the shade of a bush and Rick's bright red face, covered in sweat. I also felt my own sweat-soaked shirt. Even I was really hot and I have a high tolerance. We needed to leave.
There are two climbs, but three pitches. We realized there was no way we would get both climbs done and would have to come back yet again. We decided not to torture ourselves further and knew, if it was already this hot, the hike back to the car would be worse. We decided to bail.
This was a very difficult decision for me (Stef). I really did not care for the idea of coming back to Winter Heat - yet again. I didn't like having expended all this effort, then not climbing. I was frustrated by yet another "one-off" day, where we completed one not-so-great 30-foot climb with a bull-shit scary down-climb. I was tempted to push us to do the Winter Heat climbs anyway. I was tempted to say "fuck the heat," believing we would be happy afterwards.
But then, I looked at Althea panting in the shade of a bush and Rick's bright red face, covered in sweat. I also felt my own sweat-soaked shirt. Even I was really hot and I have a high tolerance. We needed to leave.
The problem with the lack of shade became particularly evident with our dog, Althea. After a rest and water break in the shadow of Yin and Yang rock, there is nothing but shrubby desert - which provides no respite from the sun.
To survive in high heat you MUST take frequent breaks in the shade, catching your breath and cooling down.
Althea will also do lots of mini-breaks, running from shady spot to shady spot, then waiting for us to arrive. This time she ran manically, going off trail, desperately trying to find shade. She wasted precious energy. When she figured out there was no shade, she frantically began running down the trail. Although we had removed Althea's pack to reduce the weight she was carrying and allow more air flow over her body, her black fur and the glaring sun were a terrible combination. She was freaking out in a way I'd never seen.
Rick informed me his knee was taking a beating with the extra weight of Althea's stuff and the steep hill. So we decided it was best to leave him behind and get Althea to an air-conditioned car ASAP. By now Althea was way ahead of us. So I ran. I ran with my 50 pound pack, on the steep gravely trail, being driven by the love of a dog and my guilt.
I physically felt like shit - but I felt like worse shit for putting Althea (and Rick) though this. We knew the day was going to be hot, but, we thought, it wasn't anything we hadn't faced before. We didn't know that the breeze would stop, making the air suffocating and not producing the evaporative cooling effect with our sweat. We didn't know that our choice to go west instead of east would be the poorer choice.
When I arrived at the parking lot, Althea was laying down, panting in the shade of the first parked vehicle she found (the parking lot is gravel and not asphalt). When I ran past her, she followed me to our car. I started it immediately, cranked the AC, opened all the doors to vent the heat, and gave her some ice water we had inside. I squirted her head and body with water and she hopped inside the car - even though it was still quite hot, to her it was shade.
Ultimately, all of us fared OK - although Althea did not kiss me or Rick all day. That was telling, because she would dole out kisses non-stop if we let her. Understandably, Althea was pissed. And Rick was on the "hangry train" (hot-angry) too. The WTF 5.7 Tour can be a bit of a suffer-fest, consisting mostly type 1 fun (fun while you are doing it), with an occasional day of type 2 day (fun upon reflection). But this may be our first Type 3 day - where there just isn't a whole lot of good parts to remember.
As a climb, the frail-rocked, super short, Hefner is not worth the really shitty, really risky "walk-off."
Winter Heat still stands "at-large" and, now, we have to do that damn approach again.
And I have a dog and husband who were pushed to their limits. Today, Rick and I decided that, as much as we love having Althea with us and as much as she loves being on the trail, we will not take her on one of these early-morning summer climbs again (that seem to always end later than expected in high heat.)
To survive in high heat you MUST take frequent breaks in the shade, catching your breath and cooling down.
Althea will also do lots of mini-breaks, running from shady spot to shady spot, then waiting for us to arrive. This time she ran manically, going off trail, desperately trying to find shade. She wasted precious energy. When she figured out there was no shade, she frantically began running down the trail. Although we had removed Althea's pack to reduce the weight she was carrying and allow more air flow over her body, her black fur and the glaring sun were a terrible combination. She was freaking out in a way I'd never seen.
Rick informed me his knee was taking a beating with the extra weight of Althea's stuff and the steep hill. So we decided it was best to leave him behind and get Althea to an air-conditioned car ASAP. By now Althea was way ahead of us. So I ran. I ran with my 50 pound pack, on the steep gravely trail, being driven by the love of a dog and my guilt.
I physically felt like shit - but I felt like worse shit for putting Althea (and Rick) though this. We knew the day was going to be hot, but, we thought, it wasn't anything we hadn't faced before. We didn't know that the breeze would stop, making the air suffocating and not producing the evaporative cooling effect with our sweat. We didn't know that our choice to go west instead of east would be the poorer choice.
When I arrived at the parking lot, Althea was laying down, panting in the shade of the first parked vehicle she found (the parking lot is gravel and not asphalt). When I ran past her, she followed me to our car. I started it immediately, cranked the AC, opened all the doors to vent the heat, and gave her some ice water we had inside. I squirted her head and body with water and she hopped inside the car - even though it was still quite hot, to her it was shade.
Ultimately, all of us fared OK - although Althea did not kiss me or Rick all day. That was telling, because she would dole out kisses non-stop if we let her. Understandably, Althea was pissed. And Rick was on the "hangry train" (hot-angry) too. The WTF 5.7 Tour can be a bit of a suffer-fest, consisting mostly type 1 fun (fun while you are doing it), with an occasional day of type 2 day (fun upon reflection). But this may be our first Type 3 day - where there just isn't a whole lot of good parts to remember.
As a climb, the frail-rocked, super short, Hefner is not worth the really shitty, really risky "walk-off."
Winter Heat still stands "at-large" and, now, we have to do that damn approach again.
And I have a dog and husband who were pushed to their limits. Today, Rick and I decided that, as much as we love having Althea with us and as much as she loves being on the trail, we will not take her on one of these early-morning summer climbs again (that seem to always end later than expected in high heat.)
Resting in the last available shade near the Yin and Yang wall. Althea is hotter than I've ever seen her. We waited to leave until her panting slowed. Then came the un-relenting, shadeless push to the car. Rick commented about taking a cold shower first thing and bringing Althea in with him (Althea hates baths!)
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The next day Althea is back to herself with plenty of kisses. I am forgiven. That's a dog's love for you.
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