Sunday, October 7th: Tom and I woke up in a beer induced haze that was exacerbated by a lack of sleep. Although my body protested, I peeled myself out of bed to make breakfast and start the day. While frying up some eggs and potatoes, I called Havila, who had just run the TC 10 mile. Her goal had been to finish in under 70 minutes and had done so generously. I was absolutely elated over her victory and unbelievably proud of her accomplishment. Feeling less haggard after some food and coffee, Tom and I packed up to head to Smith Rock, a short 40 minute drive from Bend. At the first sight of the park, we were both in love. The tan, steep rock formations rising high over the Winatchee River were glowing under the hot, afternoon sun. Awe became excitement as we scanned over our large, uncharted playground. Not wanting to waste time, we grabbed our things and made our way towards the rock. Being the birthplace of sport climbing, Smith Rock gets a lot of mixed reviews. Aware of other climber’s opinions, each of us were eager to form our own. After only a few routes, we were confident that the upcoming week would be unforgettable. That night, we pulled into the town’s grocery store where we met up Josh, a friend we made while climbing in Red River Gorge. He drove to meet us from Salt Lake City and his girlfriend would be flying in on Thursday. All tired from a long day, we drove to nearby BLM land where we set up camp and hit the sack.
Monday’s adventures included everything I love about climbing; long, steep routes with thin ledges and small protrusions. Tom and Josh were less pleased, feeling unfairly challenged and technically disadvantaged. It isn’t always easy to keep a good attitude in this sport, especially when you feel like you’re getting beat down. After finishing our fourth route, our muscles ached with satisfaction. Our last climb of the day was on a route that Tom and I had done the day before. I was hoping to get it clean the second time, but unfortunately didn’t do so. Feeling disappointed in myself, I took some time alone to work through my inner dialogue. I struggle to see “failure” as anything other than digression but am trying to adopt a more encouraging mentality. While Tom and Josh drove into Bend to see a climbing documentary, I ran back to camp. This allowed me the space to wrestle through various thoughts and relax into the rare opportunity to be alone. Back at the campsite, I made dinner and caught up with close friends. It was one of few times that I’ve had the camper to myself, a peaceful solitude that I’ve unconsciously missed.
The wall that we climbed on Tuesday was unique in both appearance and climbing style. Alternating incut and protruding rectangular dihedrals formed rigid waves. We did climbs that sat both within and outiside the dihedrals. Our shaded sanctuary was appreciated during mid-day, but in the late afternoon, became too chilly to stay. That evening, the temperature plummeted and in order to withstand being outside, we built a hot campfire near which we ate dinner and shared stories.
We did a few unremarkable climbs Wednesday morning before I split off from Tom and Josh. I went for a trail run with Josh’s dog, Steadman, while they completed a multi-pitch route. Not only did I want to see more of the park, but I also was in need of a day off of climbing. That night, we grabbed a beer at a climbing shop in town called Redpoint. It’s an all-in-one business with both climbing gear and a service counter with specialty coffee and on-tap beers. The laid-back setting and indoor heat gave each of our muscles a chance to relax.
Thursday was the day we had dedicated to finding a 12a that each of us were enthusiastic about attempting. Our plan was to continue to try it until we each climbed it successfully. Walking up to Panic Attack was unbelievable intimidating, just as the name implies. The short, slightly overhung face appeared to be bare apart from a few shallow features. All doubts aside, we gathered the courage to all give it a go. After each of us failed multiple times, we accepted that we would have to come back and try it when our muscles were fresh. We were all exhausted as we drove out of the parking lot, but still had a night stretched out ahead of us. Lindsay, Josh’s girlfriend, didn’t fly in until 11, which meant that we had a few hours to burn before picking her up from the airport. We did what we could to stay warm and awake before heading into Redmond for groceries. While there, Tom and I absentmindedly tossed sufficient odds and ends in our cart to sustain us for the rest of the week. We had just enough time to wrap up our shopping trip before grabbing Lindsay and bringing her back to camp.
We had decided on Friday morning that we would rest up and attempt Panic Attack the following day. We didn’t find out until we were on a short hike that afternoon that Josh and Lindsay were expecting. Tom and I were happy for them while also completely taken off-guard. We had just spent the last four days with Josh without him so much as hinting at it. The walk gave us the opportunity to find out how each of them were handling it and allow our palpable shock to dissipate. Overall, we enjoyed our day with them and appreciated our time together. They are both easy-going, hilarious individuals and are some of the easiest friendships we have made so far on this trip.
Each of us woke up on Saturday feeling perturbed. Obnoxious weekenders had moved in right next to us, with no consideration for those around them. Their loud generator and incessant hollering continued late into the night, draining our patience and driving us to insanity. Exhausted and fed up, we began packing up our things to move to a further site that morning. What we had thought to be a flawless plan turned into an absolute catastrophe. With so much open land, we assumed that finding another campsite would be easy. We drove around with Josh’s tent atop his Prius and the rest of our belongings chaotically thrown into the camper. After some time, we settled for what seemed to be our best option; a site blanketed with garbage and shattered glass. Although disgusted and disappointed, after the countless nights that we’ve spent at free sites, it gave us the opportunity to clean up and give back. We allowed our frustration and sun cooked bodies to squash our spirits, leaving us feeling temporarily sluggish and unmotivated. Once we had allowed ourselves a short pity party, we switched mental gears and began preparing to climb hard. That evening, after numerous attempts, I finished Panic Attack clean and God did it feel good. Of course my pride fueled a portion of my celebration, but on the whole, I felt as if my practice and training had finally paid off. Although completeing a single 12a doesn’t alter my value, or change who I am, it was both a hard fought victory and a cherished milestone. Josh had also completed it, and although Tom did not, he selflessly championed me and shared in my jubilee. An unexpected wave of emotion came later that evening, partially motivated by a few celebratory beers. As Tom and I prepared dinner in the camper, I was suddenly overwhelmed with joy, followed by a mess of tears. I can’t articulate it any better than to say that it was a breaking point. Like I was holding my breath until I could prove something, and in the end, it was more than validation, it was pure relief.
We woke up on Sunday, to a cold but beautiful morning. I was fooled by the sunshine and blue sky as I stepped out into the frigid air. Throughout the week we had reached new lows at night, testing our ability to conserve heat and sleep against the uncomfortable bite. It was hard to believe that it was our last day at Smith after falling so helplessly in love with it. We spent the first half of the day in the sun, taking it slow and easy. That evening, Tom valiantly attempted Panic Attack a few more times but hadn’t yet mastered the sequence. He was rightly disappointed, but was able to keep his overall performance in perspective, something that I often fail to do. After 6 months of climbing, it has become undeniably clear to both of us, that time, dedication and sacrifice are what it will take to continue progressing. We both love climbing, but recognize that what we get out of it will depend on what we are willing to put into it.
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