Thursday 28 November 2013

Fallen Iris - unplugged


This is not the article I was going to post this week.  However, before I could finish that one, something else came along.  A starter if you will…
Last Sunday, myself and visiting climber Anton Gietl fondled some virgin rock at Tafelberg.  The result was Fallen Iris,and indeed it was quite rock-gasmic.  It features spectacular climbing, stupendous stances, ball-tugging exposure and just the right amount of spice (think Durban tourist, not Delhi resident).

 Squeaky stalking the skyline. Photo: Anton Gietl.
Now, this is not some egocentric plug for our route.  On the contrary it is essentially the opposite.  Let me explain.
Fallen Iris is not desperate, hard or dangerous.  Nor is it squeezed in or lurking on the sidelines.  It is consistent grade 17 to 19 up the Main Wall.  It is certainly on par with the very best on the mountain, and was simply off the radar, until now.  Probably overlooked, or improbable looking.
The lesson:  even at one of the premier trad venues in SA, there are still unclimbed moderates of excellent quality waiting to be found.  Which brings me to my point: you don’t need to be uber strong to be a pioneer.  You don’t need to be a rockstar to find great quality lines at your grade.
While we also have hundreds of crags that are yet to be visited by folks with chalk bags, one doesn’t necessarily need to go that far to find something new and inspiring at whatever level suits you.  With a bit of imagination and gutspa there is oodles of vertical exploration to be had, even at existing areas.  We are particularly lucky in SA to have so much climbing potential that pretty much anyone can find some untouched magic.
So, while I am sure you would grin like a stoned Cheshire cat atop our new line, you would probably have even more fun discovering a gem of your own.  
Which begs the question, what are you doing this weekend?

Anton about to embark on the long, airy traverse

The Dark Arete with views across the entire wall

Celebrating the monster pocket on pitch 3. Photo: Anton Gietl


Wednesday 3 July 2013

Gobble Gobble


Welcome to the Kaҫkar
Gluttony.
Conjures up images of sweaty Westerners, in already over-stuffed skins, prodding yet more hamburgers down overused gullets.  Hardly a desirable trait, right? Indeed, over-consumption of resources is one of our main failings as a species, but when it comes to positive experiences and life enhancing opportunities, I will devour everything I can. Whether I ordered it or not.
This partly explains how I ended up atop a mountain I never planned to tackle.

The unexpected view
Turkey.
In addition to ancient ruins, packed beaches and habitual tea addicts, this country has some good alpine mountaineering on offer.  However, we were not on a climbing trip. This was a holiday, not a mission: a mildly alien concept to me.  It must be over a decade since my hand luggage on an international flight was not jammed with heavy gear but shouldered as if it were a blow up doll.  We did plan to explore the natural beauty of Turkey, and trekking in the Kaҫkar (pronounced Catch Car) mountains was our first main stop.  However, the ice gear needed for a summit attempt in June was purposefully left behind, after all, this was not an expedition.
In the quaint village of Yaylalar, we stayed in a lovely family run pension.  The kitchen overlooked a river, horses grazed outside, tea was always on offer and we had a large room to scatter our belongs around.  It was all very comfortable.  We even slept in beds.  Yip, this was certainly not an expedition.

If all approach walks were this easy…
Despite this, the stunning wilderness that had drawn us here also called for some intimacy.  The trail to Dilberdüzü  campsite is about as pleasant as you could ask for.  Gently rising through a valley of lush pastures with carpets of spring flowers, herds of butterflies and a cirque of towering brown and white ahead.  Then choose a pozzie for your tent on the meadow of soft grass, just paces from a glacial river, with postcard views in all directions.  Bliss.  It addition, this site is on the Southern side of the range where weather is more stable in June.  Coincidentally, this is also where the route to the peak starts.
By August it will be packed with guided groups: all waiting to be unceremoniously Congo-lined up the scree.  Someone else’s vestibule will be intruding on yours.  Donkeys will be dumping their packages.  The long drops won’t be so long anymore.   Fortunately, we were two months too early for this, and only five Czechs were in-situ when we arrived.  The following morning, on my walk to do an Eskom (think load shedding)*, I noticed there were only four Czechs.  Now this is where the plot would thicken, if there was one.


It turned out that one of their members had woken up, shortly after going to sleep, and forced his way to the summit. He had neither crampons nor ice axe, but a wild glint in his eyes, proper boots, trekking poles and bulging calves – good for kicking steps.  In his account, he made liberal use of the words “dangerous” and “scary”, but I remember thinking: “Hmmm, so it is possible without ice gear. Interesting.”.
Next, enter four heavy set Spaniards.  They had arrived late the previous evening and also battled to the top in the wee hours.  Armed with spiky toys too boot, they had still ended up taking much longer than expected and returned buggered and glad to have descended without incident.  My thoughts were: “Hmmm, between them they must have stamped out a pretty good trail. Very interesting”.
Base camp.  One day left.  Seemingly good weather, snow conditions and trail already broken.  Demonstrated possibility of summiting with similar gear. Following a nod from his very understanding girlfriend, the glutton set his alarm for 2am.
Now, mountains and suffering are intertwined like those woggles scouts wear around their scarves. It snowed during the night. I was anxious and slept badly.  The white stuff 10m from the tent was frozen and I skated around awkwardly trying to find some balance.  Clouds masked the stars.  Breakfast sat reluctantly and tiredness lingered.  Eish, no picnic on Mount Kaҫkar.
Time to flick the machine mode switch on.  Ensure every single step is secure, kick if required, focus, repeat, check. Ignore the burn, do not stop.  Breathe.  Ignore the consequences, do not doubt.
Opportunity plus appetite plus determination, and luck.  The latter shone through as the first sunrays split the clouds and the skies started to clear.  Steeper, trickier, frozen.  Then, coming into view: the final ridge and crimson flag whipping in the icy wind. The up ended.

Self timers are the Shiz
Summits are often hostile places that send you packing shortly after you arrive, but not this time. Yes, I could afford to change to sloth mode. For a decadent hour and forty five minutes I parked off and took it all in.  People pontificate about why we climb mountains and come up with all manner of poetic and existential reasons.  While there may be some truth in these inspirational musings, a great view is enough for me.  I like beauty and nature, which can both be well observed from somewhere high in the wilderness.  Rather simple really.
Suffice to say, the descent from this particular perch was a tense and mentally taxing affair. A very long, very white tightrope.
The conundrum I will raise is this: I had a profoundly satisfying experience that required a certain style under the circumstances, but I cannot recommend this approach with a clear conscience.  It’s the free solo rock climbing dilemma in a frosty guise.  Seizing ‘risky’ opportunities requires a very honest personal assessment, and I am not justifying my choice as suitable for anyone other than me.
I do advocate living life to the full, gobbling up as many awesome memories-to-be as you can, but how you do this should be on your own terms.
Generally, climbers want to feed the rat. Regular, planned dining is satisfying, but the most exceptional meals are sometimes rather unexpected.

Past and present
*“An Eskom” a.k.a: a brown out.   Source: Wakeling, J., Versfeld, T., Porter, A., Hall, A., Seuring, M., Steyn, D. & R. Halsey (2013) Banter in the mist on the Ledge.  Journal of Climbing Silliness. June 30.
The best resource for the area is ‘The Kaҫkar – Trekking in Turkey’s Black Sea Mountains’ by Kate Clow. The author’s website is:
Recommended:
Karahan Pension, extraordinary hospitality:  www.karahanpension.com.
Camyuva Pension, also coordinate rescues: www.kackar3937.com.


 

Still need convincing?




Thursday 4 April 2013

Miura VS under scrutiny

Gear review

Up close and shoesonal

Word on the approach path is that the Velcro version of the Miura is now available in SA.  Now, one is not meant to disrupt a good story with fact, or visa versa, but then I have never been good with rules.  True, the Miura VS has landed in SA, but is it really just a Miura with Velcro?  Moreover, is it better? These are the questions that bother climbing nerds in the wee hours (or so I hear).
Disclaimer:  I have only had these shoes a few weeks, so this is primarily initial impressions.  After a good innings I’ll be able to comment on aspects like durability, maintenance of performance and fragrance retention.  Secondly, a climbing shoe that does not fit properly is about as useful as burqa at a nudist beach.  By extension, this review would be entirely inappropriate if the shoes did not suit my hooves.  Fortunately they do, so we can proceed.

Edges large and small under pressure. 
Pic: Ant Hall.
Since I started my adult life as a scientist, I have aimed to be analytical but not dry.  If you want to read rave ramblings about how these are the best shoes since leather and rubber were first put into bondage, there are plenty strew across forums on the Interweb.
Miura vs. Miura VS…  man that’s rather confusing.  Let’s try again.
How does the Miura VS compare to the standard Miura?
Shared features:
Slingshot last, Powerhinge design, degree of asymmetry, split rubber on side of the shoe, rubber compound (XSedge), and colour scheme.  The later may be useful when trying the blend in when climbing near bees.
Differential features:
3 strap Velcro closure, elasticated and gusseted tongue, unlined sole, full-foot mid sole, different upper lining.  Similar overall shape, but slightly more downturned. Most influential is the P3 platform.

New shoes, new route.  Cape Velvet (25).  
Pic: Douw Steyn
What of this is relevant?
Well, the idea is that the rand and sole design is such that when you weight your foot, the back part of the shoe flexes and your toes stay put where they are.  To me, it feels like the overall rubber design helps the shoe to “suck” onto your foot.  This aids in reducing dead space and the shoe feels secure.  Good features to retain.  Well done design team.  No surprises, the aggressive shape is good for steep terrain.  The P3 platform helps keep a performance shape, but does slightly reduce the sensitivity and together with full-length midsole give a stiffer feel.  The tongue feels nice and comfy, but isn’t gonna make you crank 9a.
Now, regarding the lining, the spec sheet says: “to control stretch”.  After reading oodles of feedback online, it seems that the correct translation of this is that “they will mold to your foot and probably stretch a bit, but should not stretch as much as the standard Miura”.  So far I can say that they have indeed molded to my foot, but as of yet I would not say they have stretched in size per se.  Consequently they feel tight but have fewer hot spots or discomfort than I would have expected, so I am pleased.  The unlined sole is meant to give more sensitivity, but in light of the P3 platform underfoot I think this claim is negligible.

Test 816: Does the shoe hold its shape over the void? Tick.  
Pic: Douw Steyn.
Proof in the pudding:    
After covertly wearing them under my desk at work, and subsequent breaking in, I put them to the test on projects on TM and Tafelberg.
Firstly, the 3 way Velcro closure does give a good fit, mainly because the middle strap is pulled in the opposite direction to the other two. Secondly, almost every other review I have seen praises the edging ability of the Miura VS, and indeed I would agree.  Furthermore I felt pretty secure on small bumps and nubbins – of which there are plenty on one of the projects I tried them on.  Small pockets and divots are also handled well.  Heel hooks felt solid: the way the shoe ‘sucks’ onto my foot prevents that feeling of your heel sliding in the shoe.
A subtle thing I particularly like is that there is some contouring under the big toes area (i.e where your big toe knuckle is, the rubber bends up ever so slightly).  This contributes to the snug feeling of the shoe and also gives you just that bit extra of purchase when standing on arêtes (or similar shaped holds).
After long periods my toes did get sore, but this goes with the territory for down cambered shoes.  I found if I changed the position of my foot (compared to less aggressive shoes), I could still smear well, but this does not seem to be their strong point and I would not take them for long slab routes. I have not tested them on vertical cracks, but other reviews indicate that this also not their forte.

Parting shot after field testing at Tafelberg
The skinny:
If you put laces on a Miura VS you would not end up with a Miura.  It should be viewed as a separate design and the size you need may differ between them. For me, it seems that the extra features in the Miura VS give better performance in some areas, but the standard Miura retains the lead in others.  It feels like it is best suited to technical and reasonably steep terrain where precise footwork is required and being able to stand on tiny things is requisite.  In this department, I feel it performs slightly better than my standard Miuras, and I have been very impressed with what you can actually stand on.
Basically this is a precision shoe, but the trade-off is that it is less of an all-rounder. I would choose them for climbing near or at my limit, but not for extended periods/multi-pitch routes.
As a precision shoe, it seems to be exceptional so far.  Time will tell how it holds up.  To be continued…

Richard enjoys craft beer, calamata olives and of course, hanging belays. 
Pic: Douw Steyn.
Specs and a good comparison:

Saturday 2 March 2013

Playground in the Sky



An Iridium satellite strutting its stuff.
Image: http://www.satobs.org/iridium.html

Today’s astronomy session shall be straight to the to the point, much like a bayonet, but hopefully less painful. I recently heard about Iridium satellites from the knowledgeable Dr Steyn.  Now, said sky voyagers are no doubt fascinating from an engineering point of view, but when stretched out under a wilderness night’s sky, it’s all about the visual effect.  These particular orbiteers have several highly reflective aluminium panels (like mirrors bru) that  in certain orientations can bounce sunlight down to a spot on Earth where it is night.  So, if you are temporally lucky, in the right place, as the satellite cruises the speckled canvas: BAM! It gives off a bright flash.

Douw milking a rest, the udder is hidden, out of respect to our bovine brethren.
Such are the days of our lives, but the soap opera cheese is optional.  Let’s examine the last month or so.  A large chunk is just gumf.  In fact, you don’t even remember it do you?  Commuting to work, grocery shopping, checking email, flipping the bad news section in the paper: pedestrian regularity sliding dimly through the vacuum.  Was this shower better than yesterday?  Rice or pasta for starch?  I am sure I have been pestered by more hawkers at this intersection this year…

Upward and outward: A muerte!
So what was awesome? Wild parties, high adventure, epic trips, finding love, giving everything.   These are the flashes we live for. Go on, what memories bring a silly grin to your face and make you wanna yell “Hell yeah!” like a rockstar?
An autographical example, for my pleasure.
Some star cycles ago, the skinny guy and the astronomer spied a line at Tabhomi*. The business pitch looked improbable and intimidating: straddling the spectrum between “too hard” and “impossible”. Or so we thought. I have eventually learnt from Mr Möhle to investigate despite unlikeliness. And sometimes there are perfect holds just where you need them…

Preparing to fight. Pic: Douw Steyn
[At this point, the author could insert copious climbing lingo describing in excruciating detail the exact moves, wingers, key beta, gear placements and exposure of the route. Oh, and a rude description of a jug so damn sweet you need 3 hands to fondle it properly. But really, it would be much better to go find it all out yourself. ]

Heading for the sky. Pic: Douw Steyn
Last day: body broken, muscles a collection of synonyms for pap and ineffectual. Much like the Monday after a dirty weekend at Betty’s Bargain Brothel, or so I hear. However my psyche was through the roof. Much like it would be for an expectant hillbilly before an excursion to Elizabeth’s aforementioned service establishment.  Somehow the power of motivation broke the weight of fatigue and I joined my psyche on the other side of the roof.
Perched on the headwall, I speculate it were the druggie equivalent of tantric tripping on multiple drugs (while at Betty’s, for good measure).
“Hell yeah!”

Douw about to top out on the FA of Iridium Flash.
Would it be true to say we opened one of the best pitches at possibly the greatest climbing spot in the our galaxy? Well, it certainly felt like it for me that day, and from an experiential perspective that really is all that matters. Absolutes are irrelevant in this context. Right there, right then, it was off the chart awesome: BAM!
So I guess the next trick is to get your personal satellite to flash as often as possible, in all aspects of life, so it resembles a disco ball pulsating and flaring through the cosmos…
Looking for a wild ride? Iridium Flash (26) on THE Main Wall.

Locals defending their turf, and rightly so.
P.S. Thanks to Douw for a frikken rad trip!
P.S.S. Two weeks later I found another pitch that felt just as good :). The party continues…
* Tabhomi: trad mecca of the known universe. Aka Tafelberg.


Tuesday 15 January 2013

Of Teeth and Hunters – Progression in Motion


Many moons ago I found a new line on TM.  It’s proper hard.  The Moon Flakes project began.  I figured that 2 months in Boven should provide the necessary improvements in finger strength needed to give it an honest go. Although, in this case ‘honest’ would mean with a small, yet possible chance of success.
Much like trying to score the hottest girl at the club: you need to pull out all the tricks of the trade (without resorting to rohypnol).  Well, at the time when I had planned to be at peak strength, the project had changed.  Now the goal was to hobble 15m on crutches without wanting to pass out from the pain…

Moon Flakes: IP. Pic: Jono Joseph
The notion of climbing 30+ on trad now seemed totally and utterly preposterous.  Ever walking again without a limp seemed like a good deal.  Being able to stand long enough to make a cheese sandwich has been nice.  Knee buggered, life changed.  While I was dosed up on pain-attempt-killers, Joe emailed me the following quote: “I don’t measure a man’s success by how high he climbs, but by how high he bounces when he hits the bottom” General George S. Patton.  Thanks dude. While it would be many weeks before the borrowed crutches could be sent back North to Gustav, the process of how to bounce started in the playground of the brain.

Phases of the moon came and went.  The body started to heal.  The mind dreamt faster.  Hobbling became walking.  The ideas of new lines grew, I explored parts of the mountain I had never seen before, albeit rather slowly and awkwardly at first.  My note book started to fill up.  My gait become more normal.  More physio. Abseiling and brushing.  Choss and gold.  Lichen in the eyes.  Some swearing.  More patience.  Waxing and Waning.  More stretching, less stumbling.  Scrambling.  Leading.  Seed planted, nervous. Go!
Scoping out the steep cracks on Fang Fighters P1 (21)

The steepening arete on pitch two of Fang Fighters (23)

And then, all of a sudden, rather jittery, unfit and untrusting of my mostly-recovered limb, I found myself high up in the mist: mid crux with major winger potential.  The Hollywood slow-mo kicked in, and if there had been music, it would have stopped.  Which would have made it easier to hear the the sound of a sewing machine threatening to start up in my left leg.  This was the test: am I back in the game or not?  Hopefully not back in hospital.  The sidelines are safer, but you can’t score from there.

Fear and Launching in Cape Town. My unnecessarily hard sequence at the crux of Fang Fighters
Oh, and the bomber gear is my smallest cam – the pamplet says “for aid climbing only”… 
and aid my climbing it did!


“Off belay!”, – and in that instant a committing (temporary grade 25) trad line was born and a question that had been rattling around my wee head had been answered.  Of course all good stories require a twist… and this one does not include roofies.
Warren followed the pitch, fell off at the crux, found better beta and voila!: the dreaded downgrade.
So 7 months on the couch may have dulled my powers of sequence finding ever so slightly, but on the sharp end at least I was getting back on track. And damn it felt good.  The psyche was fuelled, and a few days later the wild (and definitely harder) Orion roof pitch was solved elsewhere above the Mother City.  Hopefully it will go soon, and then the psyche will be over flowing like Dolly Parton in an extra small tank top.  And maybe, just maybe, it won’t be too many lunar cycles more before chalk dust appears on Moon Flakes again.


Yeha! How high psyche looks – Utah or South Africa, makes no difference.
Progression is awesome.   I highly recommend it.  In the past 4 months I have gone from not being able to walk properly to climbing mid-twenties grade trad.  Previously that took over 20 years! (or 8-12 hours if you include climbing after a big night out).  Either way, if I can just find a way to keep this current rate of improvement up, then I will be onto something…

Elsewhere on TM: more work to be done…

And BIG thanks to Brenna, Mom and Dad for nursing/tolerance/awesomeness, Mark for physio, friends for encouragement.