Summer Days in Santa Barbara

I’m slowly becoming a local out on Padaro Lane.  Since returning from Utah, I’ve spent a good many days soaking up the sun at Loon Point and taking the occasional barefoot jog down the beach.  Oddly, for the first time in a decade I’m enjoying running and it has yet to aggravate any of the prior injuries.  

A few days back I interviewed for a private chef position with the owners of the mega property across the street from the beach parking lot.  Yeah, that one.  The one that’s been under construction since the beginning of time.  I audition early next week.  If the “educated” approach to cuisine is up their alley then I’ll be working there 10-15 days a month, an the ideal amount of work right now.  

Of course in my current state of full blown climbing addiction I can’t leave an area without exploring at least some of its cragging potential.  Turns out Padaro’s got something special in this area as well.  The Splash Zone, an area shrouded in mystery is a glue up located “somewhere” near Padaro lane.  I’d hiked in a few times curious about the climbing and access issues, but never put on shoes, let alone rope up.  Shit, I’m from Santa Barbara.  I’m not used to dirty needles and abundant graffiti.  This place makes the Tor seem like The Four Seasons.  

Somehow I got Elija motivated for an evening session.  He must have believed me when I said that some of the routes looked borderline futuristic.  He’s a sucker for futuristic stuff.  I’ve never met a climber that enjoys getting humbled more than the boy scout from the pacific northwest who came back from the dead last year.    Well turns out I was right.  Yes, there are some really hard routes there.  Together we did a combined three moves on one of the testpieces.  Along the way we also sent a few of the moderates, all fantastic once you get over the fear of a hold blowing off at any moment.  It’s hard to know how solid the work is here, especially since this place was built over a decade ago.  We had a blast.  No joke, this might be some of the better sport climbing in Santa Barbara.  On the way back to car, Elija looks back at me,  “Dude, there’s a car coming and your walking in the middle of the street!”  He was right.  In my post cranking haze I had wandered off into the road.  I look back over my shoulder and, yep you guessed it, a cop.  Perfect.  Of course the guy pulls up.  C’mon, two dirty guys with packs walking down the middle of a private drive.  We were sorting of asking for it.  I explained to the officer, that yes, I am an idiot and I understood that people aren’t supposed to walk in the middle of the road.  I also assured him that we were walking back to our vehicle avoiding any explanation for our abundance of gear.  The splash zone is legit.  

On that note, I just might have enough time for a run before getting home to work on some fresh pasta.  

"We should continue with style"

The last year has been a rocky one.  In and out of the country; on and off the injured list; and little if any idea as to what my future holds.  I may not be old quite yet, but it feels like I’m getting older.   Who am I kidding?  28 is anything but old in a world where 30 is the new 20, but its hard not to notice some differences between my current body/mind and that of my younger selves.  Getting older and moving past ones physical prime is hard, but for those of us, who’s lives have come to revolve around the sports they love, the reality that our bodies getting tired is anything but blissful, or is it?

The realization that “I’m getting older” eventually metabolizes into “I’m gonna die someday”.  The awareness, and more importantly, acceptance that the ride undoubtably will end is a potent motivational force.  Equal parts stimulant and depressant, a relationship with the inevitable end is not an easy pill to swallow.  Yet philosophers, warriors, sages, and scientists the globe over have found themselves empowered by this esoteric wisdom since the beginnings of documented history.  

The turbulence encountered this past year has left me neck deep in life’s barf bag more than once, but driving home from Utah, tired, achey, and hungry the horizon was wide and my curiosity stronger than ever.  

Salt Lake City continues to amaze me.  We spent three days in town exploring more of the fantastic rock, food and, ... ahem... shredding that this town offers.  Again the Romney Edwards team opened their doors wide giving us not just a place to sleep, but the requisite coffee and beer to properly fuel our endeavors.  

Liquid Oxygen 5.12a

Steve awaits the Litmus Test 5.11c

...and cruises it

Our first day on stone was spent at the Division Wall in American Fork.  I’d been here last trip and really enjoyed it.  Once again the mild early summer conditions were made Division the perfect place to run a few laps and work the kinks out we’d generated over the past few days of driving.  Enjoying a fine meal after a day at the crags talk inevitable turned to the days of old.  We shared stories of Santa Barbara fixtures; Arvind, Perlin, Ratso, and The Pukester.  And eventually, long after the sun had set and the third pitcher lost its chill, talk turned to cinema classics.  It wasn’t long before we discovered that niether Justin or I had ever seen The Eiger Sanction.  I’d heard talk of the Eastwood film, but never taken the time to sit down and educate myself.  Well, thank god for mentors.  We drove straight home, cracked open ice cold Oly’s and over the next two hours got our minds blown straight out of our skulls.  The Eiger Sanction is the best movie I’ve ever seen.  Period.  

"It's hot and I need more coffee!"

Romney cruising one of the better routes at Hellgate

The following day Steve introduced us to two more of the immense Canyons just minutes out of town.  High up in Little Cottonwood we did some “adventure” sport climbing at 9000 ft on anything but bomber dolomite limestone.  Hellgate may not be the best crag I’ve ever been to, but the three long moderate routes I got on were much more fun than their loose rock and polished edges might imply from the ground.  Kind of a one star wednesday crag if you know what I mean, but hell, this place would be cherished if it were on the central coast.  

I had the pleasure of witnessing Romney give it 200% on this route.  Sharma's got nothing on her battle roar.

Sending The Pile Left 5.12b

The afternoon was spent at The Pile in Big Cottonwood Canyon.  I’ve climbed on very little quartzite, and I starting to wonder why.  Bullet hard, great features and an almost glowing amber color give, quartzite is vastly different than Santa Barbara “mud”stone.  The Pile may be small but the fun climbing, streamside location and cool temps would get me back next trip in a heartbeat.  

Justin gets the fire started while I sort through the "supplies"

Some kid crushing Maple choss

Maple Canyon

On Monday morning Justin and I packed the truck, bid farewell to our hosts and drove south towards the cobblestones of Maple Canyon.  We snagged the last campsite and spent two days exploring the world famous choss, along the way realizing that we may need to train our endurance a bit more in the future.  Many of the routes in Maple are real long and real steep, and there’s good holds most of the way.  Not the most interesting climbing on the planet, but really fun and physical to say the least.  After a week on the road, 4 climbing days on four different types of stone, we drove home just in time for a Saturday session at the Tor.

Division Wall

-Remote Control 5.11a - onsight.  good warm up. confusing up high

-Division 5.11d -  Rad route, but got incredibly pumped trying to find the holds on the crux, sort of the norm at Division Wall. 

-Liquid Oxygen 5.12a - redpoint.  Basically a rad long boulder problem.  Fantastic!

-Litmus Test 5.11c - onsight.  Easy climbing to a roof.  One of the better roofs I’ve been on.  Nice exposure. 

Hellgate

-5.10c - onsight

-5.10c - onsight

-5.10d - onsight

The Pile

-The Pile Right 5.11d - redpoint 2nd go.  Pumpy as all hell with long moves off great holds.

-The Pile Left 5.12b -redpoint 2nd go.  The crux is a clip off of a sloper.  Rad. 

Maple Canyon

-The Minister 5.11b - onsight.  

-49 5.12a - one fall.   Climbed forever, then got mega pumped only to realize there was another 40 ft to the chains.  The theme continues below

-Lunchables 5.12b - one fall.  

-Spray 5.10a - flash

-Skeet Shoot 5.10d - flash

-Point Blank 5.12b- not enough power endurance to send this short steep route.  

-Pasties and a G String 5.11d - redpoint.  Nice name, cool crux.  

-Watermelon Sugar 5.11c - cool route.  

It's a Fever Blister!

Salt Lake City is almost 1000 miles from Santa Barbara, a bit much for one day in the car.  However, Las Vegas is conveniently located almost exactly half way between the two, making it the perfect layover for our haul out to northern Utah.  But lets be honest, it doesn’t take many excuses to motivate a stop off in Sin City.  

So next thing I know, I’m on the pool deck drinking beers in the sun with Mr Justin Willet, my partner in crime for the next 10 days and, bless his heart, a seasoned Vegas veteran.  Vegas is a super magnet for rippers and the time spent finishing a bucket  of beers by the pool is more than plenty to scope some of the world’s best.  Ultra Vnecks, tapout tshirts, more cheap cigars than any area should contain, and, my personal favorite, the dad telling his pre-pubescent sons that “there’s titties all over the place in there!”, pointing straight towards the casino floor.  Where do these people come from?  Oh yeah.  America.  The same country I live in.  Yikes.  

It sometimes baffling how many connections Justin has in the food and wine world.  I can’t say I was too surprised at his suggestion for dinner at Bouchon, where he, of course, knows the sommelier well, and we’d be taken care of properly.  Who am I to turn down Thomas Keller’s food accompanied by top notch wine?   Shell fish on ice, fantastic salads, pate, duck confit; the list goes on.  This french bistro style cuisine hit the magical note where simplicity and top notch ingredients meet the soft touch of a wise chef’s hands.  After a three hour experience a shot of espresso sent us on our way into the dark night and bright lights.  

Now, Justin’s not just a well connected winemaker, he’s also a single guy with needs so I followed into his bar of choice, ready to drink at least few more beers and support his cause.  It wasn’t long before a group of young women moved their center of mass in our direction.

“Are you mad about something?”  he asks as one glances our way, hiding behind a thin screen of cockiness.  In minutes she’s on the couch next to him enamored. Soon the whole flock is curious.  As conversation turns to home we discover our new friends our all from Louisiana as they learn we’re California boys.  And wouldn't you know,

“Did you vote for Obama?” one asks.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I hate black people!  Why would you vote for a black man?”  This is where I turn to Justin and both our jaws drop.  Actually, I should stop here to say that by this point in the evening, we’d already learned that all these girls were college graduates.  In fact this their trip was in honor of one of their recent graduations. 

“Well, he’s uh, sort of rad.  Who was I supposed to be vote for instead?”

“He’s a Muslim.  He’s not even from this country!”

“I’m pretty sure he was born in Hawaii.”  We’re in utter shock by this point.  This may be one of the most simultaneously entertaining and depressing conversations I’ve ever had.  We can’t help but egg them on, and they continue to attack more than one other minority.  It’s amazing that there’s enough people out there as ignorant as these girls that somehow they were comfortable telling us (more or less complete strangers mind you) exactly how they felt.  Las Vegas is crazy, but I’m starting to think Louisiana must be utterly insane. 

We woke feeling anything but marvelous.  The few hours of sleep we were able to log was not nearly enough recovery to properly metabolize the surplus alcohol put into our systems.  In perfect Vegas style we moped to the car and drove off down the strip, the dessert heat a constant reminder of how bad we actually felt.  400 miles of highway and multiple liters of Gatorade later we found ourselves lost in Salt Lake City trying to find Steve’s house.  Somehow in my haze I had forgotten how to get there even though it had been only a month since my last visit.     

The Long Road Home

I'm in a bind.  As the craving for adventure abroad grows with every taste of the road, the connections with those closest to me have only intensified.  Lately I'm more inspired by the small circles of friends and loved ones that call Santa Barbara their home.  I doubt this is a unique circumstance.  Traveling undeniably intensifies our passions and interests, and of course, distance makes the heart grow fonder.  Sitting in Peet's Coffee, my place of employment almost a decade ago, staring off towards the hills I wonder what else is out there and how my sails will catch the breeze.  

The road out of Whistler was exciting to say the least.  In fact, Mom you may want to skip to the next paragraph and continue from there.   Bridget and I were on separate flights home and I managed to misinterpret the schedules on my calender just before going to bed on our last evening.  So we walked out the door at 9 am needing to be at the airport for an international flight departing at 12:30 pm.  However we still had a 2.5 hour drive ahead of us, and well, you can do the math.  The drive ahead quickly turned into one of the most terrifying excursions I've yet to enjoy behind the wheel of a 4 wheel vehicle.  I got in the car with a mild hangover accentuated by a severe lack of sleep.  Speeding down an already dangerous mountain highway would have been bad enough in this state, but heavy rain, wind, and a solid helping of fog teamed up with the ongoing construction along highway 99 and my need to make good time to create a near perfect storm. All I wanted was to be asleep in an airplane seat, even a bus seat; I'd choose just about any other mode of transportation as long as I wasn't in control of the vessel.  Grim.  

In the end we both barely made our respective flights and along with the usual travel nonsense we made it home to sunny Santa Barbara.  I'll be here for about a week organizing my things and looking into work opportunities before heading out on the road again.  It seems I've finally gotten someone other than Bridget to bite on the climbing trip idea.  Justin and I will spend the first week or so of July traveling through Nevada and Utah with cranking at the top of the agenda.  More details to come.  

photo:  I have no idea what this creature is, but this little guy couldn't get enough of the camera.  He leaves in Cheakamus.  Bridget named him Stitch.