Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
End of Season at Seneca
Snowflakes
Falling
into the rock passing the spirits of the lost climbers.
On my mind
falling
snowflakes.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Leadership Lessons from the Death Zone
A Review of Chris Warner and Don Schmincke’s High-Altitude Leadership: What the World’s Most Forbidding Peaks Teach Us About Success, Jossey-Bass, 2008
Climbing mountains is not a sport; it is a lifestyle. I am convinced of this because I am a rock climber myself. The peaks I have scaled are tiny compared to Mt. Everest.
I have climbed no higher than a few thousand feet, never above the 26,000 feet mark that hails the beginning of the death zone. And lasting a few days at most, in such wild places as West Virginia, my climbing trips hardly merit being called expeditions. Yet I have had many epic and insightful adventures leading teams of students on these smaller-scale pursuits. They have provided me with a rich backdrop for reflection on leadership. When I saw the title “High-Altitude Leadership,” I knew I had to read it.
“An expedition is a journey of physical, emotional, and intellectual brutality that kicks the crap out of you and in which the opportunity for things going wrong is built into the formula. [] Seeking high altitude leadership also promises to kick the crap out of you,” the authors tell us in the introduction. This book is a collaboration between mountaineer, entrepreneur, and owner of Earth Treks, Chris Warner, and climber, author, and founder of The SAGA Leadership Institute, Don Schmincke. The two men share experiences in the areas of climbing and entrepreneurship, and after meeting on a climbing expedition, they discover that “the dynamics of mountaineering provide tailor-made metaphors for business challenges.” Warner and Schmincke team up to eventually deliver this transdisciplinary book about business leadership intensified by working in the death zone. They define high altitude leaders as “those who lead themselves and their teams to produce peak performance in the face of extreme challenges by overcoming the dangers not foreseen or addressed by current, pop leadership theory.”
The key lessons of this book derive from “the dangers.” There are eight; and they are each exposed in separate chapters that include case studies, survival tips and key learnings. Warner and Schmincke start from the obvious truth that “dangers threaten every leader at some point in their journey.” The significance of these eight dangers of leading is that they magnify as leaders climb higher, either up the mountain or up the corporate ladder. A leader who deals with these key dangers effectively practices high altitude leadership. The eight dangers which high altitude leaders must face are: fear of death, selfishness, tool seduction, arrogance, lone heroism, cowardice, comfort, and gravity.
Fear of death causes a leader’s mind to freeze up. When that happens, the leader is unable to take decisive action. Death is the ultimate danger to mountaineers. In the business world, death is not (usually) physical. Rather, it occurs with the demise of a great idea, a plan, a career. Or it means company bankruptcy. Fear of death can be conquered; the way to do so is by embracing it. The acceptance of death, as one possible outcome of a leadership action, frees and empowers a leader for innovation, decisiveness and action.
Selfishness is the egocentric leader behavior that can politically poison a team. Think withholding information, playing favorites, or protecting sacred cow projects. Warner and Schmincke discuss the dangerous, unproductive, dysfunctional (DUD) conditions that exist in companies as a result of selfish behavior. They tell leaders to purge selfishness from themselves and from their team. This is a tall order. The recommended strategy for filling it is by creating passion in followers through the telling a compelling saga. The saga unifies, because it provides the team with something worth fighting for, to “die” for. And thus it increases productivity.
Tool seduction addresses the question, “are you using your tools, or are they using you?” This chapter exposes the high failure rate of implementing management fads, usually when tools replace the deeper work of adaptation to change. Leaders who successfully avert tool seduction can put their energies into planning for the unknown, and continuously adapt to changing conditions.
Arrogance is apparent when leaders have so high an opinion of themselves that it will kill them. They fall into the metaphorical crevasse; or they get backstabbed by their followers. “Arrogant leaders ignore warnings on mountains and in boardrooms.” They endanger themselves and their teams. The cure for a leader that is infected by arrogance is humility. But can an arrogant leader truly learn to become humble? Warner and Schmincke think so, and provide some strategies. Humility makes it possible to admit to mistakes and failures, to learn from them, and to commit to a path of continuous improvement.
Lone heroism is in evidence when a leader uses the mantra: “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” Lone heroism causes weak teams, low accountability, misaligned direction, demoralization, and hostages; and the resulting damage can be extensive. The remedy for lone heroism is partnership. Warner and Schmincke assert, “There are no more messianic leaders. The few who came before aren’t interested in working for your corporation. You’ll have to settle for creating powerful partnerships.”
Cowardice encapsulates a leader’s risk-avoidance behavior. Cowardice propels leaders to seek safety instead of peak performance. The counterforce to cowardice is bravery. Warner and Schmincke believe bravery can be instilled by shame, but comment that shaming people is no longer politically correct. They deride current managerial practices because they coddle followers and do not get the job done. High latitude leaders tell the truth and walk the talk.
Comfort leads to stagnation, and vice versa. Yet “great achievements sometimes require enduring extreme discomfort.” Thus Warner and Schmincke caution, “Don’t lead if you lack the willingness to be uncomfortable.” Their high altitude leaders are not seduced by the status quo. Rather, they inspire their teams to move onward and upward even when that path is downright unpleasant. This requires perseverance, combined with a good sense for when to retreat, rethink, and return to face the challenge another day.
Gravity is the last of the dangers; it has the capacity to kill a leader who did everything right. Gravity simply exists. Just like bad luck. It is a metaphor for environmental variables a leader cannot control. The only countermeasure for gravity is good luck. While a leader can sometimes get lucky by chance, luck can also be created through several proven techniques. A leader can maximize chance opportunities by being open to new experiences, or by following a gut instinct. Another method is to visualize a positive outcome.
In the final chapter of their book, Warner and Schmincke dare any aspiring high altitude leaders to ask themselves: “When have I laid it all on the line to make my dream come true?” They encourage the reader to consider the final lesson, “that high altitude leaders don’t seek to conquer the great goals; these are the results of their conquering themselves.”
The strength of this book is in the combination of mountaineering sagas told by Warner, with observations of corporate America recounted by Schmincke. Death is the key to making the book such a seductively good read. The stories told by Warner are sensationally dramatic case studies of decision-making in high altitude climbing teams. They are compelling not only because they are educational, but because they are vivid, engrossing accounts of his personal experiences of leadership and followership under the highest of stakes. I gobbled them up with morbid fascination. The examples woven in by Schmincke are expositions of similarly extreme corporate environments that he encountered in his consulting practice. I am less familiar with his arena, and thought the business examples were less powerful than the mountaineering ones. Yet the lessons that the authors derive form this amalgamation resonate well with me, perhaps because many of them are familiar from the leadership literature. By examining them from the extreme perspective of high altitude leadership, the authors make such well-known leadership and management themes as passion, failure, adaptive change, continuous improvement, and perseverance, fresh and relevant once again. The taste of adventure they gave me, combined with their direct, tell-it-as-it-is writing style, had me finish this book in record time. I came away from it not as much with new knowledge or skill, but with a feeling – a sense of being invigorated and ready to take on new leadership challenges. After all, climbing is not a sport; it is a lifestyle, and so is leadership.
Credits: The image of Chris Warner and Don Schmincke’s book jacket was downloaded from http://highaltitudeleadership.com/.
Christine L. Dvonch edited the manuscript for English.
Note: This manuscript has been submitted to Integral Leadership Review. The article appeared here: Integral Leadership Review, Volume IX, No.5
Climbing mountains is not a sport; it is a lifestyle. I am convinced of this because I am a rock climber myself. The peaks I have scaled are tiny compared to Mt. Everest.
I have climbed no higher than a few thousand feet, never above the 26,000 feet mark that hails the beginning of the death zone. And lasting a few days at most, in such wild places as West Virginia, my climbing trips hardly merit being called expeditions. Yet I have had many epic and insightful adventures leading teams of students on these smaller-scale pursuits. They have provided me with a rich backdrop for reflection on leadership. When I saw the title “High-Altitude Leadership,” I knew I had to read it.“An expedition is a journey of physical, emotional, and intellectual brutality that kicks the crap out of you and in which the opportunity for things going wrong is built into the formula. [] Seeking high altitude leadership also promises to kick the crap out of you,” the authors tell us in the introduction. This book is a collaboration between mountaineer, entrepreneur, and owner of Earth Treks, Chris Warner, and climber, author, and founder of The SAGA Leadership Institute, Don Schmincke. The two men share experiences in the areas of climbing and entrepreneurship, and after meeting on a climbing expedition, they discover that “the dynamics of mountaineering provide tailor-made metaphors for business challenges.” Warner and Schmincke team up to eventually deliver this transdisciplinary book about business leadership intensified by working in the death zone. They define high altitude leaders as “those who lead themselves and their teams to produce peak performance in the face of extreme challenges by overcoming the dangers not foreseen or addressed by current, pop leadership theory.”
The key lessons of this book derive from “the dangers.” There are eight; and they are each exposed in separate chapters that include case studies, survival tips and key learnings. Warner and Schmincke start from the obvious truth that “dangers threaten every leader at some point in their journey.” The significance of these eight dangers of leading is that they magnify as leaders climb higher, either up the mountain or up the corporate ladder. A leader who deals with these key dangers effectively practices high altitude leadership. The eight dangers which high altitude leaders must face are: fear of death, selfishness, tool seduction, arrogance, lone heroism, cowardice, comfort, and gravity.
Fear of death causes a leader’s mind to freeze up. When that happens, the leader is unable to take decisive action. Death is the ultimate danger to mountaineers. In the business world, death is not (usually) physical. Rather, it occurs with the demise of a great idea, a plan, a career. Or it means company bankruptcy. Fear of death can be conquered; the way to do so is by embracing it. The acceptance of death, as one possible outcome of a leadership action, frees and empowers a leader for innovation, decisiveness and action.
Selfishness is the egocentric leader behavior that can politically poison a team. Think withholding information, playing favorites, or protecting sacred cow projects. Warner and Schmincke discuss the dangerous, unproductive, dysfunctional (DUD) conditions that exist in companies as a result of selfish behavior. They tell leaders to purge selfishness from themselves and from their team. This is a tall order. The recommended strategy for filling it is by creating passion in followers through the telling a compelling saga. The saga unifies, because it provides the team with something worth fighting for, to “die” for. And thus it increases productivity.
Tool seduction addresses the question, “are you using your tools, or are they using you?” This chapter exposes the high failure rate of implementing management fads, usually when tools replace the deeper work of adaptation to change. Leaders who successfully avert tool seduction can put their energies into planning for the unknown, and continuously adapt to changing conditions.
Arrogance is apparent when leaders have so high an opinion of themselves that it will kill them. They fall into the metaphorical crevasse; or they get backstabbed by their followers. “Arrogant leaders ignore warnings on mountains and in boardrooms.” They endanger themselves and their teams. The cure for a leader that is infected by arrogance is humility. But can an arrogant leader truly learn to become humble? Warner and Schmincke think so, and provide some strategies. Humility makes it possible to admit to mistakes and failures, to learn from them, and to commit to a path of continuous improvement.
Lone heroism is in evidence when a leader uses the mantra: “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” Lone heroism causes weak teams, low accountability, misaligned direction, demoralization, and hostages; and the resulting damage can be extensive. The remedy for lone heroism is partnership. Warner and Schmincke assert, “There are no more messianic leaders. The few who came before aren’t interested in working for your corporation. You’ll have to settle for creating powerful partnerships.”
Cowardice encapsulates a leader’s risk-avoidance behavior. Cowardice propels leaders to seek safety instead of peak performance. The counterforce to cowardice is bravery. Warner and Schmincke believe bravery can be instilled by shame, but comment that shaming people is no longer politically correct. They deride current managerial practices because they coddle followers and do not get the job done. High latitude leaders tell the truth and walk the talk.
Comfort leads to stagnation, and vice versa. Yet “great achievements sometimes require enduring extreme discomfort.” Thus Warner and Schmincke caution, “Don’t lead if you lack the willingness to be uncomfortable.” Their high altitude leaders are not seduced by the status quo. Rather, they inspire their teams to move onward and upward even when that path is downright unpleasant. This requires perseverance, combined with a good sense for when to retreat, rethink, and return to face the challenge another day.
Gravity is the last of the dangers; it has the capacity to kill a leader who did everything right. Gravity simply exists. Just like bad luck. It is a metaphor for environmental variables a leader cannot control. The only countermeasure for gravity is good luck. While a leader can sometimes get lucky by chance, luck can also be created through several proven techniques. A leader can maximize chance opportunities by being open to new experiences, or by following a gut instinct. Another method is to visualize a positive outcome.
In the final chapter of their book, Warner and Schmincke dare any aspiring high altitude leaders to ask themselves: “When have I laid it all on the line to make my dream come true?” They encourage the reader to consider the final lesson, “that high altitude leaders don’t seek to conquer the great goals; these are the results of their conquering themselves.”
The strength of this book is in the combination of mountaineering sagas told by Warner, with observations of corporate America recounted by Schmincke. Death is the key to making the book such a seductively good read. The stories told by Warner are sensationally dramatic case studies of decision-making in high altitude climbing teams. They are compelling not only because they are educational, but because they are vivid, engrossing accounts of his personal experiences of leadership and followership under the highest of stakes. I gobbled them up with morbid fascination. The examples woven in by Schmincke are expositions of similarly extreme corporate environments that he encountered in his consulting practice. I am less familiar with his arena, and thought the business examples were less powerful than the mountaineering ones. Yet the lessons that the authors derive form this amalgamation resonate well with me, perhaps because many of them are familiar from the leadership literature. By examining them from the extreme perspective of high altitude leadership, the authors make such well-known leadership and management themes as passion, failure, adaptive change, continuous improvement, and perseverance, fresh and relevant once again. The taste of adventure they gave me, combined with their direct, tell-it-as-it-is writing style, had me finish this book in record time. I came away from it not as much with new knowledge or skill, but with a feeling – a sense of being invigorated and ready to take on new leadership challenges. After all, climbing is not a sport; it is a lifestyle, and so is leadership.
Credits: The image of Chris Warner and Don Schmincke’s book jacket was downloaded from http://highaltitudeleadership.com/.
Christine L. Dvonch edited the manuscript for English.
Note: This manuscript has been submitted to Integral Leadership Review. The article appeared here: Integral Leadership Review, Volume IX, No.5
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Taking the AMGA's SPI Course
What is the difference between a pizza and a professional guide? The pizza feeds a family of four.
This joke, told to us by Patrick Weaver, our instructor, briefly lightened the mood during our morning hike on day two of the American Mountain Guide Association’s Single-Pitch Instructor course. Mostly, the atmosphere of the course was very serious. Many of the scenarios in the course revolve around something going wrong, and a rescue. The guide’s job is to anticipate what could possibly go wrong, assess the risk, act responsibly and with the safety and enjoyment of the clients in mind, and be skilled in rescue techniques. I experienced the course as extremely intense—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Two weeks later, I am still digesting the mountain of information that was packed into the course.
The SPI Course
The SPI three-day training course is the first step to becoming a professional climbing guide. The second step is a two-day assessment, aka, the exam. The three-day course curriculum covers 19 sessions. They are listed in the AGMA SPI 2009 program manual, which was part of the course materials. For each session, the manual also provides the goals, required equipment, and a rationale. The session topics are:
Session 1: SPI and AMGA Program Overview
Session 2: Professionalism
Session 3: Equipment
Session 4: Knots and Hitches
Session 5: Belaying
Session 6: Protection and Anchoring
Session 7: Teaching Skills
Session 8: Selecting the Climbing Site
Session 9: Site Organization and Group Management
Session 10: Base-Managed Sites
Session 11: Assistance Skills— Base-Managed Sites
Session 12: Programming and Risk Management
Session 13: Instructor Demo Lead Climb
Session 14: Top-Managed Sites
Session 15: Lowering
Session 16: Assistance Skills—Top-Managed Sites
Session 17: Rappelling
Session 18: Climbing Movement
Session 19: Review Session
Experiencing the SPI Course
I had become interested in the course because I am increasingly taking students climbing. Taking students from the University of Pittsburgh and the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh climbing has been a good experience for me. I have learned so much every time I have led a rope team. However, I am also very aware of the mistakes I have made. Some of them are etched into my memory because of their great potential for disaster. It is true that field experience provides tremendous opportunity for learning. However, how should we structure our learning so that it does not occur at the expense of those who trust us as their guides and teachers?
After several years of learning from friends and from experience, it had become time for me to contrast my knowledge with some kind of standard. I was also curious about what it entails to be a professional climbing guide. Talking throughout the season with Diane Kearns of The Gendarme and Seneca Rocks Climbing School,
and Tom Cecil of Seneca Rocks Mountain Guides, I decided the SPI course was what I needed. Luckily I had enough experience, in terms of years climbing and the number of traditional routes I have led, to fulfill the pre-requisites for taking the course. Before I’ll be able to proceed to the assessment, however, I will have to lead a lot more routes at 5.6 and above; and that has given me an incentive this season to try harder to break into that grade.
Patrick Weaver owns Appalachian Mountain Institute, and usually guides and teaches in North Carolina or Kentucky. Because several climbers from the east coast had expressed an interest in the SPI course, Diane Kearns had facilitated bringing Patrick to Seneca Rocks to teach the course. This was an advantage for us students because we would be able to learn in a familiar environment.
After several months of planning, I finally drove to Seneca on the evening of September 11, 2009.
Day One
I began my day with cappuccino and a delicious quiche and an impromptu lesson from Tom Cecil at the Ground Up. Tony Barnes was away for a trip, and I was surprised to be served breakfast by Tom, who was assisted by Gina. While brewing my coffee, Tom inquired what I was up to this weekend. A good question, since I was by myself, and trad climbers usually come in pairs. I told him that I was taking the SPI course. I
also shared that I had spend the previous day in front of my computer practicing the Munter Mule knot, which I knew I would need but continued to have trouble with. While I was eating my breakfast, Tom disappeared into the climbing gym and returned with a short rope and a carabiner. He clipped the carabiner to the armrest of my chair and asked me to tie a Munter Mule. I did manage to get one done, but what the computer animation did not show were the variation and reasons Tom proceeded to demonstrate for me. Thus my learning experience got off to a good start.
After breakfast, I headed over to the Gendarme, where I had a chance to briefly catch up with Diane. Her big news was that Arthur had been injured in a motorcycle accident and was wheel-chair bound. What a shock this must be for couple who so enjoys being physically active. I also met the course instructor, Patrick, and the three other students, John, Jonathan, and Sean.
Every day of the course, we had lecture sessions outside of the Gendarme. Every day we hiked to the rocks for applied lessons, with increasing amounts of gear. Patrick did not teach the sessions strictly in the order they are listed above. Thus, on the first day, we learned about equipment, protection, selecting the climbing site, top-managed sites, and lowering.
My favorite lesson was the lesson on equipment. Patrick had brought a big bag full of old gear, and asked us to each grab five pieces and tell him what, if anything, was wrong with them. I will never again pocket a piece of booty without carefully looking for the signs of wear and tear I learned about during this session. I also successfully, meaning to AMGA standards, built a gear anchor with a cordelette in a location that Patrick chose for me.
The first day of the course was quite cold and windy.
Temperatures on the Lowers Slabs probably only reached into the fifties. And while I usually like colder temperatures for climbing, the temperatures had still been in the eighties in Pittsburgh. This sudden change perhaps contributed to draining my energy as the day went on. And the overwhelming amount of information and my attempts to translate them into practice most definitely wore me down. I felt like a student again, rather than the master! At the end of the day, Patrick did start into the assistance skills for top-managed sites, but called it a day when he noticed how exhausted we had become after the ten hours we had been studying and practicing in the cold wind.
We retired to the front porch for some well deserved pizza and beer. And we enjoyed the companionship of other climbers who had been out on the rock climbing that day.
Day Two
On day two we started even earlier than on the first
day to make up for not completing enough material on the first day. We met at 7:45 am in front of the Gendarme, and did not return until about 7 pm, making for an eleven-hour-long study day. We did our practical sessions on the Lower Slabs again, in slightly warmer temperatures and less wind. I did not feel quite the same amount of mental overload and fatigue than the day before. Many of the topics we covered were more familiar to me: knots and hitches, belaying, teaching skills, base-managed sites, including the required assistance skills. 
Patrick also got to do his instructor demo lead climb, on “Scuttle”. We watched him jealously, since this weekend did not include any climbing for us.
I did bugger up one of my assignments that day. I was to build a top-rope anchor with a static rope…but the rope we had picked up in the Gendarme was shorter than it should have been, the rock above the route was rotten and did not take pro, one tree was too close to the edge, and the other, off-center from the climb.
With enough time and gear I would have been able to rig an anchor, but trying to use the techniques I had just learned in a situation that was not straightforward, I was so slow that Patrick eventually took over. On the third day, he did demonstrate to us that he can build an anchor with a 100 foot static in just three minutes. That was quite impressive and gives me the gold standard for efficient performance that I can now strive for.
In another exercise, I had to rescue Sean, who pretended to be stuck about 15 feet up a route. I had to take over the belay from his belayer, ascend the rope to Sean, than bring him down with me. I got it all done, which was satisfying. Yet I did not do it well enough. Sean descended by about 3 feet during my rescue. If he had had a foot stuck in a crack for instance, I would have broken it during my rescue. More practice is needed on this scenario as well…
The evening was fun and grew quite late because after class was over, we decided to head to Hellbender, a Mexican restaurant in Davis. Patrick volunteered to drive and loaded all of us into his van. We spent the ride decompressing by talking more climbing, and dinner stuffing ourselves with monster-sized, tasty burritos.
Day Three
On the third day, we hiked up to Luncheon Ledge. I rejoiced, because I had to build another top-rope anchor to make up for my failure from the day before, and the place Patrick chose for me was right at the bottom of Old Ladies, a route I am quite familiar with. My anchor, part traditional, part tree, went up quickly enough, and my gear placements were pronounced bomber. So far so good.
Next, Jonathan and I were assigned to set up a releasable rappel. Unfortunately, we had both forgotten the set-up that Patrick had shown us at the end of day one, and we rigged a regular rappel. Patrick quizzed us for a while to jog our memory about the releasable rappel, but quickly realized we were drawing a blank. It was quite frustrating to me that I couldn’t reproduce something I had just learned two days ago. But then again, I told myself, I’d only seen it done once. I found this set-up particularly confusing because it involves three ropes. Basically, there is rope everywhere you look, and it is critical to do steps in the right order and to keep the area around the master point well organized. Patrick showed us how to rig this scenario once again, and we accomplished to do it by ourselves shortly thereafter.
Jonathan and I also both successfully practiced the releasable rappel scenario with back-up belay by the guide on a second rope, which assumed that our client had become stuck on rappel.
While working through our lessons on Luncheon Ledge, we saw
Tom Cecil getting ready and then lead up “Crack of Dawn”. That was a treat and a diversion. (For the record, Patrick did not watch Tom climb so as not to spoil his opportunity for an onsight of this route.)
My favorite lesson of the day was the one on climbing movement. Patrick had clearly put a lot of thought into the lesson plan, and he had good demonstrations to make his points. At about 4 pm, we headed back to the Gendarme for final lessons on SPI and AMGA programs, and professionalism.
The ten-hour day ended with a private, personal skills assessment of each of us by the instructor. (If you are, or have ever been Catholic, think confessional….). I appreciated the opportunity to talk about what I had learned, and what I self-assessed I have yet to learn. Patrick provided me with valuable feedback. He also emailed me a few days after the course feedback in writing on an AMGA candidate evaluation form; I understand that it will become part of my AMGA record.
After we had sorted our gear, and exchanged email addresses, it was time to part ways.
Reflections
The course required more stamina and concentration than I had expected. I woke up on the second day thinking I must really love climbing if I am putting myself through this strenuous experience. The course felt more like a review course for the exam than a training course to me. The AMGA materials had been quite explicit that this was not going to be a belay course, not an anchor course, and not a knots course. Instead, proficiency in these areas was expected of the course participants. That was clear to me and I felt knowledgeable in these areas. But there is still so much more to learn, and the pre-existing knowledge and skill of us four course participants was quite different. Some of the lessons learned on the SPI course carry over into my life as a professor and educator. Now I appreciate once again the difference between a professor, who has had a lifetime to grapple with ideas and concepts, and a student learning about them for the very first time. And then we profs like to throw new combinations of problems at students on the exam…and act surprised when they can’t put it all together. I realized it is plain hard to repeat a new skill correctly on the first try, even harder to integrate a brand-new skill into a variation of the original scenario. I must have known this back in the day. How could I forget.
The course is no substitute for experience. There are many skills that I will begin to incorporate into my climbing repertoire. I hope that by practicing them and experiencing them in many different situations, I will become efficient at executing them even under pressure. An important lesson that I am now aware of is to always take in the big picture of a situation. I am usually good at that, but as pressure on me increases, my focus narrows and this is when I start to make mistakes. Better mastery of the technical skills will free up some of my brain power for the task of maintaining the big picture.
The course sets a high standard for professional certification. I came to understand why guiding is sometimes also referred to as rockcraft. I also learned that the difference between a climber and a professional guide is this: Climbers carry a guidebook, professional guides carry a notebook. If you are planning to take this course, be prepared to take plenty of notes and photos. This is especially important since the technical section of the SPI course manual is not very extensive or detailed.
The course emphasizes leadership and managerial skills. I enjoy contemplating these in great detail in my current role as instructor in an academic leadership seminar. The SPI course was a good fit to what I already know, and gave me new perspectives and insights on informed consent, group management, and risk management.
Will I take the exam? I don’t know. After a lifetime of taking exams in academia, you’d think I’d be used to taking exams. But on the contrary, I’ve sort of grown averse to them. On the other hand, if I truly master all of the material, the exam should be a breeze for me, and I should go for it on principal. I just haven’t been able to make up my mind about it. And then there is the issue of leading more 5.6s on gear. Perhaps next season…
Photo credit: The photo of the Munter Muler on my harness was taken by John; Jonathan took the one of me lowering.
This joke, told to us by Patrick Weaver, our instructor, briefly lightened the mood during our morning hike on day two of the American Mountain Guide Association’s Single-Pitch Instructor course. Mostly, the atmosphere of the course was very serious. Many of the scenarios in the course revolve around something going wrong, and a rescue. The guide’s job is to anticipate what could possibly go wrong, assess the risk, act responsibly and with the safety and enjoyment of the clients in mind, and be skilled in rescue techniques. I experienced the course as extremely intense—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Two weeks later, I am still digesting the mountain of information that was packed into the course.
The SPI Course
The SPI three-day training course is the first step to becoming a professional climbing guide. The second step is a two-day assessment, aka, the exam. The three-day course curriculum covers 19 sessions. They are listed in the AGMA SPI 2009 program manual, which was part of the course materials. For each session, the manual also provides the goals, required equipment, and a rationale. The session topics are:
Session 1: SPI and AMGA Program Overview
Session 2: Professionalism
Session 3: Equipment
Session 4: Knots and Hitches
Session 5: Belaying
Session 6: Protection and Anchoring
Session 7: Teaching Skills
Session 8: Selecting the Climbing Site
Session 9: Site Organization and Group Management
Session 10: Base-Managed Sites
Session 11: Assistance Skills— Base-Managed Sites
Session 12: Programming and Risk Management
Session 13: Instructor Demo Lead Climb
Session 14: Top-Managed Sites
Session 15: Lowering
Session 16: Assistance Skills—Top-Managed Sites
Session 17: Rappelling
Session 18: Climbing Movement
Session 19: Review Session
Experiencing the SPI Course
I had become interested in the course because I am increasingly taking students climbing. Taking students from the University of Pittsburgh and the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh climbing has been a good experience for me. I have learned so much every time I have led a rope team. However, I am also very aware of the mistakes I have made. Some of them are etched into my memory because of their great potential for disaster. It is true that field experience provides tremendous opportunity for learning. However, how should we structure our learning so that it does not occur at the expense of those who trust us as their guides and teachers?
After several years of learning from friends and from experience, it had become time for me to contrast my knowledge with some kind of standard. I was also curious about what it entails to be a professional climbing guide. Talking throughout the season with Diane Kearns of The Gendarme and Seneca Rocks Climbing School,
and Tom Cecil of Seneca Rocks Mountain Guides, I decided the SPI course was what I needed. Luckily I had enough experience, in terms of years climbing and the number of traditional routes I have led, to fulfill the pre-requisites for taking the course. Before I’ll be able to proceed to the assessment, however, I will have to lead a lot more routes at 5.6 and above; and that has given me an incentive this season to try harder to break into that grade.Patrick Weaver owns Appalachian Mountain Institute, and usually guides and teaches in North Carolina or Kentucky. Because several climbers from the east coast had expressed an interest in the SPI course, Diane Kearns had facilitated bringing Patrick to Seneca Rocks to teach the course. This was an advantage for us students because we would be able to learn in a familiar environment.
After several months of planning, I finally drove to Seneca on the evening of September 11, 2009.
Day One
I began my day with cappuccino and a delicious quiche and an impromptu lesson from Tom Cecil at the Ground Up. Tony Barnes was away for a trip, and I was surprised to be served breakfast by Tom, who was assisted by Gina. While brewing my coffee, Tom inquired what I was up to this weekend. A good question, since I was by myself, and trad climbers usually come in pairs. I told him that I was taking the SPI course. I
also shared that I had spend the previous day in front of my computer practicing the Munter Mule knot, which I knew I would need but continued to have trouble with. While I was eating my breakfast, Tom disappeared into the climbing gym and returned with a short rope and a carabiner. He clipped the carabiner to the armrest of my chair and asked me to tie a Munter Mule. I did manage to get one done, but what the computer animation did not show were the variation and reasons Tom proceeded to demonstrate for me. Thus my learning experience got off to a good start.After breakfast, I headed over to the Gendarme, where I had a chance to briefly catch up with Diane. Her big news was that Arthur had been injured in a motorcycle accident and was wheel-chair bound. What a shock this must be for couple who so enjoys being physically active. I also met the course instructor, Patrick, and the three other students, John, Jonathan, and Sean.
Every day of the course, we had lecture sessions outside of the Gendarme. Every day we hiked to the rocks for applied lessons, with increasing amounts of gear. Patrick did not teach the sessions strictly in the order they are listed above. Thus, on the first day, we learned about equipment, protection, selecting the climbing site, top-managed sites, and lowering.
My favorite lesson was the lesson on equipment. Patrick had brought a big bag full of old gear, and asked us to each grab five pieces and tell him what, if anything, was wrong with them. I will never again pocket a piece of booty without carefully looking for the signs of wear and tear I learned about during this session. I also successfully, meaning to AMGA standards, built a gear anchor with a cordelette in a location that Patrick chose for me.
The first day of the course was quite cold and windy.
Temperatures on the Lowers Slabs probably only reached into the fifties. And while I usually like colder temperatures for climbing, the temperatures had still been in the eighties in Pittsburgh. This sudden change perhaps contributed to draining my energy as the day went on. And the overwhelming amount of information and my attempts to translate them into practice most definitely wore me down. I felt like a student again, rather than the master! At the end of the day, Patrick did start into the assistance skills for top-managed sites, but called it a day when he noticed how exhausted we had become after the ten hours we had been studying and practicing in the cold wind. We retired to the front porch for some well deserved pizza and beer. And we enjoyed the companionship of other climbers who had been out on the rock climbing that day.
Day Two
On day two we started even earlier than on the first
day to make up for not completing enough material on the first day. We met at 7:45 am in front of the Gendarme, and did not return until about 7 pm, making for an eleven-hour-long study day. We did our practical sessions on the Lower Slabs again, in slightly warmer temperatures and less wind. I did not feel quite the same amount of mental overload and fatigue than the day before. Many of the topics we covered were more familiar to me: knots and hitches, belaying, teaching skills, base-managed sites, including the required assistance skills. 
Patrick also got to do his instructor demo lead climb, on “Scuttle”. We watched him jealously, since this weekend did not include any climbing for us. I did bugger up one of my assignments that day. I was to build a top-rope anchor with a static rope…but the rope we had picked up in the Gendarme was shorter than it should have been, the rock above the route was rotten and did not take pro, one tree was too close to the edge, and the other, off-center from the climb.
With enough time and gear I would have been able to rig an anchor, but trying to use the techniques I had just learned in a situation that was not straightforward, I was so slow that Patrick eventually took over. On the third day, he did demonstrate to us that he can build an anchor with a 100 foot static in just three minutes. That was quite impressive and gives me the gold standard for efficient performance that I can now strive for.
In another exercise, I had to rescue Sean, who pretended to be stuck about 15 feet up a route. I had to take over the belay from his belayer, ascend the rope to Sean, than bring him down with me. I got it all done, which was satisfying. Yet I did not do it well enough. Sean descended by about 3 feet during my rescue. If he had had a foot stuck in a crack for instance, I would have broken it during my rescue. More practice is needed on this scenario as well…
The evening was fun and grew quite late because after class was over, we decided to head to Hellbender, a Mexican restaurant in Davis. Patrick volunteered to drive and loaded all of us into his van. We spent the ride decompressing by talking more climbing, and dinner stuffing ourselves with monster-sized, tasty burritos.
Day Three
On the third day, we hiked up to Luncheon Ledge. I rejoiced, because I had to build another top-rope anchor to make up for my failure from the day before, and the place Patrick chose for me was right at the bottom of Old Ladies, a route I am quite familiar with. My anchor, part traditional, part tree, went up quickly enough, and my gear placements were pronounced bomber. So far so good.
Next, Jonathan and I were assigned to set up a releasable rappel. Unfortunately, we had both forgotten the set-up that Patrick had shown us at the end of day one, and we rigged a regular rappel. Patrick quizzed us for a while to jog our memory about the releasable rappel, but quickly realized we were drawing a blank. It was quite frustrating to me that I couldn’t reproduce something I had just learned two days ago. But then again, I told myself, I’d only seen it done once. I found this set-up particularly confusing because it involves three ropes. Basically, there is rope everywhere you look, and it is critical to do steps in the right order and to keep the area around the master point well organized. Patrick showed us how to rig this scenario once again, and we accomplished to do it by ourselves shortly thereafter.
Jonathan and I also both successfully practiced the releasable rappel scenario with back-up belay by the guide on a second rope, which assumed that our client had become stuck on rappel.
While working through our lessons on Luncheon Ledge, we saw
Tom Cecil getting ready and then lead up “Crack of Dawn”. That was a treat and a diversion. (For the record, Patrick did not watch Tom climb so as not to spoil his opportunity for an onsight of this route.)My favorite lesson of the day was the one on climbing movement. Patrick had clearly put a lot of thought into the lesson plan, and he had good demonstrations to make his points. At about 4 pm, we headed back to the Gendarme for final lessons on SPI and AMGA programs, and professionalism.
The ten-hour day ended with a private, personal skills assessment of each of us by the instructor. (If you are, or have ever been Catholic, think confessional….). I appreciated the opportunity to talk about what I had learned, and what I self-assessed I have yet to learn. Patrick provided me with valuable feedback. He also emailed me a few days after the course feedback in writing on an AMGA candidate evaluation form; I understand that it will become part of my AMGA record.
After we had sorted our gear, and exchanged email addresses, it was time to part ways.
Reflections
The course required more stamina and concentration than I had expected. I woke up on the second day thinking I must really love climbing if I am putting myself through this strenuous experience. The course felt more like a review course for the exam than a training course to me. The AMGA materials had been quite explicit that this was not going to be a belay course, not an anchor course, and not a knots course. Instead, proficiency in these areas was expected of the course participants. That was clear to me and I felt knowledgeable in these areas. But there is still so much more to learn, and the pre-existing knowledge and skill of us four course participants was quite different. Some of the lessons learned on the SPI course carry over into my life as a professor and educator. Now I appreciate once again the difference between a professor, who has had a lifetime to grapple with ideas and concepts, and a student learning about them for the very first time. And then we profs like to throw new combinations of problems at students on the exam…and act surprised when they can’t put it all together. I realized it is plain hard to repeat a new skill correctly on the first try, even harder to integrate a brand-new skill into a variation of the original scenario. I must have known this back in the day. How could I forget.
The course is no substitute for experience. There are many skills that I will begin to incorporate into my climbing repertoire. I hope that by practicing them and experiencing them in many different situations, I will become efficient at executing them even under pressure. An important lesson that I am now aware of is to always take in the big picture of a situation. I am usually good at that, but as pressure on me increases, my focus narrows and this is when I start to make mistakes. Better mastery of the technical skills will free up some of my brain power for the task of maintaining the big picture.
The course sets a high standard for professional certification. I came to understand why guiding is sometimes also referred to as rockcraft. I also learned that the difference between a climber and a professional guide is this: Climbers carry a guidebook, professional guides carry a notebook. If you are planning to take this course, be prepared to take plenty of notes and photos. This is especially important since the technical section of the SPI course manual is not very extensive or detailed.
The course emphasizes leadership and managerial skills. I enjoy contemplating these in great detail in my current role as instructor in an academic leadership seminar. The SPI course was a good fit to what I already know, and gave me new perspectives and insights on informed consent, group management, and risk management.
Will I take the exam? I don’t know. After a lifetime of taking exams in academia, you’d think I’d be used to taking exams. But on the contrary, I’ve sort of grown averse to them. On the other hand, if I truly master all of the material, the exam should be a breeze for me, and I should go for it on principal. I just haven’t been able to make up my mind about it. And then there is the issue of leading more 5.6s on gear. Perhaps next season…
Photo credit: The photo of the Munter Muler on my harness was taken by John; Jonathan took the one of me lowering.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Seneca Shadows Amphitheater Back in Use
For more than five years, the amphitheater in Seneca Shadows campground had fallen into disrepair, left to migrating weeds, mold, and mouse droppings. That changed this summer, when Seneca Rocks Discovery Center director Steve Kickert, aided by local business leaders such as Diane Kearns, co-owner of The Gendarme Climbing Shop, and other activists, rolled up their sleeves, rehabbed the facility, and put on weekly programming free and open to the public.I attended Diane Kearns’s talk titled “History and How To’s of Climbing Seneca” on Saturday, August 1. Diane took us through an engaging narrative of the climbing history at Seneca, starting with the legend of Princess Snowbird, continuing with the first climbers who made documented ascents of the north and south peaks, onwards to the story of the piton pegging climbing soldiers of the 1940s, and an account of the last climb of the fallen Gendarme. Along the way, she also explained the origins of traditional climbing, which is now the dominant form of climbing at Seneca, and how it was adopted by Seneca climbers. Diane finished with a brief memorial of Seneca climber Paul Geyer, who died in a car accident, and whose wife, Gigi, had donated the funds for the amphitheater to honor Paul.
Diane’s presentation was attended by about 30 people, most of them visiting Seneca Rocks for camping, with a few climbers sprinkled in. Her talk really came to life through the many, decades-old pictures that she had digitized. If you have any pictures of Seneca Rocks from decades past, please, stop by the Gendarme next time you’re at Seneca and share them with Diane.
There are a couple more events coming up throughout the rest of the summer:
8/15 Geology of the Seneca Rocks and Spruce Knob Areas (by Jim van Gundy)
8/22 Beyond the Trailhead, a program about the Monongahela National Forest
8/29 Climbing – From Seneca to Yosemite (by Seneca Rocks Mt. Guides climbers)
9/05 Keith and Joan Pitzer in concert
If you happen to be at Seneca on one of these weekends, check them out!
(For the 8/2009 Explorer, the newsletter of the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Another Rock Goddess in the Making
There’s nothing like a good student! Karen Nenno turned in a stellar performance on her Rock Climbing School post-graduation trip with the Explorer’s Club of Pittsburgh. I was particularly pleased with her attention to the climb and her commitment to our team, because I think these qualities will serve her very well not only in her climbing career, but also as a future graduate student in Pitt’s School of Pharmacy.
Day 1
Our trip to Seneca Rocks began on June 12. Shane Shinn and I shared a pleasant drive together from Pittsburgh, full of conversation about the climbs to come, and the evening’s Penguin’s game against the Detroit Red Wings. T’was the night of the 7th and last game in the 2009 Stanley Cup finals…
We arrived just as the game was about to start. I dropped Shane in the camp ground and went to check on the TV channels in my room at Yokkum’s, only to discover that NBC wasn’t among them. Tom Cecil came to our rescue. Seneca Rocks Mountaineering Guides kindly stayed open late for the Pittsburgh crowd, and we were able to watch the Penguin’s win. What a perfect beginning to a phenomenal weekend!
With more leaders, experienced seconds, and students still arriving, or not, team assignments continued to change. I was happy to learn that Debbie Stango, who is an accomplished rock climber, had agreed to be my second. We heard that Karen was to be our student, and made plans to meet at 8 am to start climbing before the rain, forecast to arrive around noon, would possibly prevent us from summiting.
The women’s team left the parking lot at 9 am. Our plan was ambitious. Climb all four pitches of “Young Ladies”, summit, do a double rope rappel to “Broadway Ledge”, climb “East Face to Gunsight Notch” for another good view of the valley, rappel off “Banana” to reach the start of “Old Man’s”, then do three pitches and rappel off “Front C” and “Le Gourmet” back to “Luncheon Ledge”. This would give us 8 pitches, all easy, and a circumnavigation of the south peak. Plus, if Karen was to run out of stamina, or the weather was to turn on us, we had several options to discontinue the project and get back to the ground.
We made excellent time on the first two pitches of “Young Ladies”. Things were going well and the team was in excellent form. Karen climbed well, had no trouble with the exposure at the end of pitch 1, or with her “piggy-in-the-middle job” of swapping the orange rope, tied to me, for the purple rope, tied to Debbie. We contemplated if Debbie should take pitch 3 as her lead. She was hesitant because she had never climbed the route before, and instead, contemplated to lead the first pitch of “Old Man’s”, which she had seconded on a previous trip, later in the day. While we were discussing this, it started to sprinkle. So it was quickly decided that I should continue to lead the route before the rain would make it slippery. The rain stopped when we got up on the “Summit Ledge”. That was relief, because we could continue with our plan to summit and then climb some more. Our team made the summit around 12:30 pm.
It is often crowded at Seneca Rocks on weekends, and so it was no surprise that we ran into other climbers on the summit. Jennifer Nottage and Stas Edel, part of Indy’s CCC group, had come up on “Gunsight to South Peak”.
Our teams exchanged cameras to take respective group pictures on the summit. We also tried in vain to reach Phil, who was taking everyone’s picture with a telescope from the parking lot, on the walkie talkie – we figured he might have gone on lunch break. We were later told that while we were able to hear conversations on channel 5.8, the ECP’s channel for the day, our radios, set to channel 5, probably did not transmit on the subchannel. Oh well.
I belayed Debbie and Karen down from the summit. I must confess I still dread the downclimb from the summit without a rope above me, which was to be my job as the leader. But Stas shared that he has no problem with the downclimb and offered me and Jennifer a belay on his rope if he could use my anchor. That seemed like a good plan to me, and we put it in action.
Debbie, Karen, and I then set up the double-rope rappel off the “Young Ladies” rappel tree. All went very well on the rappel, and the team continued to be in good sprits, ready to push on for the Gunsight Notch.
The crowd we ran into there was unbelievable! Three teams of three were lined up to climb “Gunsight to South Peak”. My usual anchor spot was taken and I had to build an anchor somewhere else. Plus our team had to cross through the path of the other teams to reach the rappel tree. After some chatting and climbing over each other and sorting out crossed legs, arms and ropes, our team was on the tree ready to descend. Only to discover that another team of two was trying to climb up to the Notch right under our tree. Because their leader had already started up, we waited, and then Debbie and Karen descended. I waited again, to let the second of said team climb up, then rappelled to join our team.
We scrambled over to the start of “Old Man’s”, and Debbie geared up to do her first lead at Seneca. The wall above us was very crowded, with numerous teams rappelling on “West Pole”, “Conn’s West”, and “Old Man’s”. And there were other climbers at the start of “Old Man’s”; fortunately, they did not want to climb “our” route. We took our second serious delay here. Plus, it was late afternoon, we were in the sunshine now, and Karen and I both drank our last water. Debbie still had a half bottle of drink left, which we left with her pack at the bottom of the route to be consumed later.
Debbie led us up the first pitch with confidence and grace. Congratulations on your first Seneca lead, Deb! Once I joined her and Karen at the belay, I noticed how exhausted I was becoming. I requested of both my team mates to make extra sure that we were all going to double-check each other for the rest of our climb, impressing on them that I did not want any mistakes to happen because I was feeling tired. Since the ropes were stacked for me to take the next lead, I set off. As soon as I went up, there was a possible epic developing with another, rappelling team, and Debbie, who was belaying me, got involved helping them figure out as to where the end of their rope was – not on the ledge where it needed to be. Possibly owing to my tiredness, or because all of the rappelling conversations were getting to me – two teams were descending right next to me on “Conn’s West” now, I tried to place my large gold cam in a place where it didn’t belong. Strangely, two of the lobes engaged in what seemed like a split second, before I could draw it back out of the crack I’d inserted it in. The cam was seriously overcammed! I tried to remove it for a while, but, having to use my left hand, which I had injured just days before in the climbing gym, I couldn’t get it out. I told Debbie that I had parked the piece and was hoping she’d try to get it out when she was on the pitch. Indeed, Debbie, having just learned from Ron Edwards how to use her nut tool to get out a stuck cam, successfully got my piece out. Great job, cleaning lady extraordinaire!!!
We once again encountered other climbers on the “Old Man’s” ledge. Stas, whom we had met on the summit, had picked up a new partner and they were getting on a route off the ledge that looked quite difficult. Knowing about the potential for congestion in this area of the rock, our team had planned not to do the last pitches of “Old Man’s”, thus avoiding what is usually a traffic jam on the rappel that goes by that very name. We’d do the “Front C” rappel instead. Because I was feeling very tired now, Debbie decided she would take the sharp end and lead us over to the “Front C” rappel tree. I thought it was less than 90 feet to the tree, and suggested we pack up the second rope. After Debbie had reached the tree, she began to belay Karen over, but…Karen could not quite get to Debbie with the amount of rope she had. Given that this portion of the climb is a traverse on a big ledge, I proposed that I would start to simul-climb until Karen reached Debbie. I traversed for only a short distance when Karen reached the anchor. Debbie then belayed me over the rest of the way. Glad that worked out!
We rappelled from the “Front C” tree to the “Le Gourmet” anchors. Karen had continued to be very alert and made it a point to check me at every turn just as I had requested. She still had energy left, because when it was time to set up the rappel on the “Le Gourmet” anchors, she requested she be allowed to do it for practice. I asked that she talk out loud about what she was doing so that Debbie and I would know her thought processes. She set up the rappel like the confident and take charge kind of person I learned that day that she is!
Debbie went first, and gave a fireman’s belay to Karen. I suggested that Karen should give me a fireman’s on this last rappel, while Debbie would go to retrieve her backpack with the remaining drink in it. I was seriously thirsty… This also gave me another “teachable moment” with Karen, since I asked her to arrest me on the fireman’s close to the bottom of the rappel. See, it really does work! But Karen had probably already learned that in Rock School.
Karen and I were pulling the rope when a distraught Debbie came back with her backpack. She told us her pack had been open and all the contents strewn about. Could it have been an animal? The real mystery was that a biner and a cordelette that were not hers had been clipped to her pack… Thankfully whoever was in her stuff did not drink those precious last sips from her bottle. Newly refreshed, we started to head down the “stairmaster”. We arrived in the parking lot at 7 pm. This made it exactly 10 hours since we had started our Seneca expedition.
Another highlight was yet to come: a dip in the swimming hole! What a blast. We made it to the Front Porch restaurant just in time to get some pizza. Food tastes so good when you are really hungry!
After dinner I swung by the CCC, who was mostly already asleep. But Indy was still up and about and had the telescope trained on Saturn. I got to look, and to talk off his ear as I decompressed about my day’s adventures and talked about my options for Sunday’s climbs to him.
The ECP’s campsite was still very lively when I stopped there later that night. We talked about the Penguins and climbing, and smoked some victory cigarillos. What a super great day!
Day 2
Sunday got off to a slightly slower start. After another nice breakfast at the “Ground Up” with Cappuccino and climbing talk served up by Tony Barnes, I headed over to the ECP’s campsite to try and figure out the plan for the day. After lots of chatting, and swapping climbing partners around, our team for the day would consist of Shane Shinn, Debbie Stango, and I. We ended up climbing Rox Salt (Shane’s lead). Here, Debbie again showed us her superior ability to clean when I couldn’t get one of the nuts out as I followed Shane. We also did Really Flakey (Shane’s lead) and then toproped an unnamed climb in between the two. After my ascent of that climb, I traversed over to the “Unrelenting Verticality” anchors and put our rope on it. Debbie toproped it, and Shane toproped it also, as well as a variation to the right. I did not, since it seemed it was going to be too hard of a climb on my left hand. After that, we headed over to “Lichen or Leave It”. Our thought of toproping that climb if the team ahead of us would put our rope up on it was shut down when the second of that team was stung by a wasp and reported there were many wasps in the crack. Indeed, a wasp was buzzing around the bottom of the climb also and crawled into my rope coil. We ended up doing “Roux” (my very pleasant lead); and Shane also led “Bear’s Delight” as the second pitch.
A Technical Lesson Learned
My story would not be complete if I did not include that we had a long discussion with Tom Cecil about the anchor Shane set up on “Really Flakey”. This was an anchor that Shane and I discussed, and agreed on. Atop of “Really Flakey” are two bolts. When Shane got there, he whipped out his cordelette. I suggested that he could just use two quick draws, since he carries some on his rack. But Shane said he would build a normal trad anchor. That was fine with me, too.
Then Tom’s team arrived and they started to climb on “Rox Salt”. When Tom got up the climb and saw our anchor, he immediately requested our attention. Having had decades of climbing experience, and experience as a mountain guide and expert accident witness, Tom had this to say. He judged that Shane’s cordelette was not 7 mm thick. He explained 7 mm is the new industry standard for anchor cordelettes. Shane was quite surprised, having just bought said cordelette brand new from a well know climbing store in Fayetteville. There, he was told that the cordelette he had purchased was 6 mm thick and was good to use for a trad anchor. Tom disagreed, pointing to the need for a 7 mm, instead of a 6 mm, cordelette. He also thought the cordelette Shane was using looked not even 6 mm in thickness. He urged us to measure the cordelette’s thickness ourselves. Our team concluded that we should go to our Pittsburgh climbing store, Exkursion, for that, and to ask them to help identify what brand and make of cordelette Shane had acquired. This will hopefully settle issue number one.
The second issue Tom took with our anchor was that we had used only one locking carabiner. We ended up having a very long discussion about that with him. My thinking was yes, when we toprope we always use two lockers in the anchor. But when we trad lead, we always only use one locker. At least that is how I was taught, and what I have also read in the literature. How, then, does the difference come about? I had never really thought about it. Tom explained that the difference was in the supervision of the biner. When you belay someone off your trad anchor, you are right there and you can see what the biner is doing, hence one biner is OK in this situation. When you toprope, you cannot see the biner. It may be hitting the rocks in some funny way as the climber ascends the rope, thereby unscrewing itself, potentially placing the climber at great risk.
Live and learn – or better put, learn and live to climb another day. To sum up this conversation and the lesson learned here – unsupervised anchor, MUST use two biners.
Leadership Reflections
Before we can aspire to lead others, we must be able to manage ourselves. Peter Drucker wrote about this topic in his 1999 article for Harvard Business Review: “Success in the knowledge economy comes to those who know themselves – their strengths, their values, and how they best perform”. I believe this to be true. I have worked through managing myself many times as a family member, a friend, an astrophysicist, professor, higher-education administrator, and as leader of climbing teams. Karen taught me the importance of self-management once again on this trip.
The risks involved in multi-pitch, traditional climbing put great responsibility on all members of a rope team. Many a novice climber approaches climbing quite casually, as a fun and thrilling recreational outdoor activity. And it is certainly all that. But there are risks. It is implicitly understood that the leader and the experienced second bear the responsibly for the climb; they manage the risk. Students get to enjoy and experience what it is like, the exposure of being high up on the rock, the physical and technical and emotional issues that come up on a project that is bigger and more committing than anything they have experienced in their previous climbing outings. Beyond acting exactly as instructed, they are not expected to share in the responsibility of the climb.
Karen not only carried on as instructed, she paid deliberate attention to what Debbie and I were doing. She was always alert and focused on the climb. She actively participated in the many decisions we had to make during the day, and was willing to articulate her understanding and viewpoints, despite the fact that she was the junior member of our team. This allowed us to have real team discussions of our decision processes. I very much enjoyed climbing with a student who is committed, courageous, caring, and most importantly to me, serious about and with the brain engaged in what she is doing.
Karen managed herself outstandingly. And in doing so, she helped our team complete the most pitches of all ECP teams climbing that day at Seneca Rocks!
And Phil got a summit shot of us after all!
Photo credit of Seneca pictures: Jennifer Nottage, Phil Breidenbach. Sid Crosby’s picture grabbed off the web.
Day 1
Our trip to Seneca Rocks began on June 12. Shane Shinn and I shared a pleasant drive together from Pittsburgh, full of conversation about the climbs to come, and the evening’s Penguin’s game against the Detroit Red Wings. T’was the night of the 7th and last game in the 2009 Stanley Cup finals…
We arrived just as the game was about to start. I dropped Shane in the camp ground and went to check on the TV channels in my room at Yokkum’s, only to discover that NBC wasn’t among them. Tom Cecil came to our rescue. Seneca Rocks Mountaineering Guides kindly stayed open late for the Pittsburgh crowd, and we were able to watch the Penguin’s win. What a perfect beginning to a phenomenal weekend!
With more leaders, experienced seconds, and students still arriving, or not, team assignments continued to change. I was happy to learn that Debbie Stango, who is an accomplished rock climber, had agreed to be my second. We heard that Karen was to be our student, and made plans to meet at 8 am to start climbing before the rain, forecast to arrive around noon, would possibly prevent us from summiting.
The women’s team left the parking lot at 9 am. Our plan was ambitious. Climb all four pitches of “Young Ladies”, summit, do a double rope rappel to “Broadway Ledge”, climb “East Face to Gunsight Notch” for another good view of the valley, rappel off “Banana” to reach the start of “Old Man’s”, then do three pitches and rappel off “Front C” and “Le Gourmet” back to “Luncheon Ledge”. This would give us 8 pitches, all easy, and a circumnavigation of the south peak. Plus, if Karen was to run out of stamina, or the weather was to turn on us, we had several options to discontinue the project and get back to the ground.
We made excellent time on the first two pitches of “Young Ladies”. Things were going well and the team was in excellent form. Karen climbed well, had no trouble with the exposure at the end of pitch 1, or with her “piggy-in-the-middle job” of swapping the orange rope, tied to me, for the purple rope, tied to Debbie. We contemplated if Debbie should take pitch 3 as her lead. She was hesitant because she had never climbed the route before, and instead, contemplated to lead the first pitch of “Old Man’s”, which she had seconded on a previous trip, later in the day. While we were discussing this, it started to sprinkle. So it was quickly decided that I should continue to lead the route before the rain would make it slippery. The rain stopped when we got up on the “Summit Ledge”. That was relief, because we could continue with our plan to summit and then climb some more. Our team made the summit around 12:30 pm.
It is often crowded at Seneca Rocks on weekends, and so it was no surprise that we ran into other climbers on the summit. Jennifer Nottage and Stas Edel, part of Indy’s CCC group, had come up on “Gunsight to South Peak”.
Our teams exchanged cameras to take respective group pictures on the summit. We also tried in vain to reach Phil, who was taking everyone’s picture with a telescope from the parking lot, on the walkie talkie – we figured he might have gone on lunch break. We were later told that while we were able to hear conversations on channel 5.8, the ECP’s channel for the day, our radios, set to channel 5, probably did not transmit on the subchannel. Oh well.
I belayed Debbie and Karen down from the summit. I must confess I still dread the downclimb from the summit without a rope above me, which was to be my job as the leader. But Stas shared that he has no problem with the downclimb and offered me and Jennifer a belay on his rope if he could use my anchor. That seemed like a good plan to me, and we put it in action.
Debbie, Karen, and I then set up the double-rope rappel off the “Young Ladies” rappel tree. All went very well on the rappel, and the team continued to be in good sprits, ready to push on for the Gunsight Notch.
The crowd we ran into there was unbelievable! Three teams of three were lined up to climb “Gunsight to South Peak”. My usual anchor spot was taken and I had to build an anchor somewhere else. Plus our team had to cross through the path of the other teams to reach the rappel tree. After some chatting and climbing over each other and sorting out crossed legs, arms and ropes, our team was on the tree ready to descend. Only to discover that another team of two was trying to climb up to the Notch right under our tree. Because their leader had already started up, we waited, and then Debbie and Karen descended. I waited again, to let the second of said team climb up, then rappelled to join our team.
We scrambled over to the start of “Old Man’s”, and Debbie geared up to do her first lead at Seneca. The wall above us was very crowded, with numerous teams rappelling on “West Pole”, “Conn’s West”, and “Old Man’s”. And there were other climbers at the start of “Old Man’s”; fortunately, they did not want to climb “our” route. We took our second serious delay here. Plus, it was late afternoon, we were in the sunshine now, and Karen and I both drank our last water. Debbie still had a half bottle of drink left, which we left with her pack at the bottom of the route to be consumed later.
Debbie led us up the first pitch with confidence and grace. Congratulations on your first Seneca lead, Deb! Once I joined her and Karen at the belay, I noticed how exhausted I was becoming. I requested of both my team mates to make extra sure that we were all going to double-check each other for the rest of our climb, impressing on them that I did not want any mistakes to happen because I was feeling tired. Since the ropes were stacked for me to take the next lead, I set off. As soon as I went up, there was a possible epic developing with another, rappelling team, and Debbie, who was belaying me, got involved helping them figure out as to where the end of their rope was – not on the ledge where it needed to be. Possibly owing to my tiredness, or because all of the rappelling conversations were getting to me – two teams were descending right next to me on “Conn’s West” now, I tried to place my large gold cam in a place where it didn’t belong. Strangely, two of the lobes engaged in what seemed like a split second, before I could draw it back out of the crack I’d inserted it in. The cam was seriously overcammed! I tried to remove it for a while, but, having to use my left hand, which I had injured just days before in the climbing gym, I couldn’t get it out. I told Debbie that I had parked the piece and was hoping she’d try to get it out when she was on the pitch. Indeed, Debbie, having just learned from Ron Edwards how to use her nut tool to get out a stuck cam, successfully got my piece out. Great job, cleaning lady extraordinaire!!!
We once again encountered other climbers on the “Old Man’s” ledge. Stas, whom we had met on the summit, had picked up a new partner and they were getting on a route off the ledge that looked quite difficult. Knowing about the potential for congestion in this area of the rock, our team had planned not to do the last pitches of “Old Man’s”, thus avoiding what is usually a traffic jam on the rappel that goes by that very name. We’d do the “Front C” rappel instead. Because I was feeling very tired now, Debbie decided she would take the sharp end and lead us over to the “Front C” rappel tree. I thought it was less than 90 feet to the tree, and suggested we pack up the second rope. After Debbie had reached the tree, she began to belay Karen over, but…Karen could not quite get to Debbie with the amount of rope she had. Given that this portion of the climb is a traverse on a big ledge, I proposed that I would start to simul-climb until Karen reached Debbie. I traversed for only a short distance when Karen reached the anchor. Debbie then belayed me over the rest of the way. Glad that worked out!
We rappelled from the “Front C” tree to the “Le Gourmet” anchors. Karen had continued to be very alert and made it a point to check me at every turn just as I had requested. She still had energy left, because when it was time to set up the rappel on the “Le Gourmet” anchors, she requested she be allowed to do it for practice. I asked that she talk out loud about what she was doing so that Debbie and I would know her thought processes. She set up the rappel like the confident and take charge kind of person I learned that day that she is!
Debbie went first, and gave a fireman’s belay to Karen. I suggested that Karen should give me a fireman’s on this last rappel, while Debbie would go to retrieve her backpack with the remaining drink in it. I was seriously thirsty… This also gave me another “teachable moment” with Karen, since I asked her to arrest me on the fireman’s close to the bottom of the rappel. See, it really does work! But Karen had probably already learned that in Rock School.
Karen and I were pulling the rope when a distraught Debbie came back with her backpack. She told us her pack had been open and all the contents strewn about. Could it have been an animal? The real mystery was that a biner and a cordelette that were not hers had been clipped to her pack… Thankfully whoever was in her stuff did not drink those precious last sips from her bottle. Newly refreshed, we started to head down the “stairmaster”. We arrived in the parking lot at 7 pm. This made it exactly 10 hours since we had started our Seneca expedition.
Another highlight was yet to come: a dip in the swimming hole! What a blast. We made it to the Front Porch restaurant just in time to get some pizza. Food tastes so good when you are really hungry!
After dinner I swung by the CCC, who was mostly already asleep. But Indy was still up and about and had the telescope trained on Saturn. I got to look, and to talk off his ear as I decompressed about my day’s adventures and talked about my options for Sunday’s climbs to him.
The ECP’s campsite was still very lively when I stopped there later that night. We talked about the Penguins and climbing, and smoked some victory cigarillos. What a super great day!
Day 2
Sunday got off to a slightly slower start. After another nice breakfast at the “Ground Up” with Cappuccino and climbing talk served up by Tony Barnes, I headed over to the ECP’s campsite to try and figure out the plan for the day. After lots of chatting, and swapping climbing partners around, our team for the day would consist of Shane Shinn, Debbie Stango, and I. We ended up climbing Rox Salt (Shane’s lead). Here, Debbie again showed us her superior ability to clean when I couldn’t get one of the nuts out as I followed Shane. We also did Really Flakey (Shane’s lead) and then toproped an unnamed climb in between the two. After my ascent of that climb, I traversed over to the “Unrelenting Verticality” anchors and put our rope on it. Debbie toproped it, and Shane toproped it also, as well as a variation to the right. I did not, since it seemed it was going to be too hard of a climb on my left hand. After that, we headed over to “Lichen or Leave It”. Our thought of toproping that climb if the team ahead of us would put our rope up on it was shut down when the second of that team was stung by a wasp and reported there were many wasps in the crack. Indeed, a wasp was buzzing around the bottom of the climb also and crawled into my rope coil. We ended up doing “Roux” (my very pleasant lead); and Shane also led “Bear’s Delight” as the second pitch.
A Technical Lesson Learned
My story would not be complete if I did not include that we had a long discussion with Tom Cecil about the anchor Shane set up on “Really Flakey”. This was an anchor that Shane and I discussed, and agreed on. Atop of “Really Flakey” are two bolts. When Shane got there, he whipped out his cordelette. I suggested that he could just use two quick draws, since he carries some on his rack. But Shane said he would build a normal trad anchor. That was fine with me, too.
Then Tom’s team arrived and they started to climb on “Rox Salt”. When Tom got up the climb and saw our anchor, he immediately requested our attention. Having had decades of climbing experience, and experience as a mountain guide and expert accident witness, Tom had this to say. He judged that Shane’s cordelette was not 7 mm thick. He explained 7 mm is the new industry standard for anchor cordelettes. Shane was quite surprised, having just bought said cordelette brand new from a well know climbing store in Fayetteville. There, he was told that the cordelette he had purchased was 6 mm thick and was good to use for a trad anchor. Tom disagreed, pointing to the need for a 7 mm, instead of a 6 mm, cordelette. He also thought the cordelette Shane was using looked not even 6 mm in thickness. He urged us to measure the cordelette’s thickness ourselves. Our team concluded that we should go to our Pittsburgh climbing store, Exkursion, for that, and to ask them to help identify what brand and make of cordelette Shane had acquired. This will hopefully settle issue number one.
The second issue Tom took with our anchor was that we had used only one locking carabiner. We ended up having a very long discussion about that with him. My thinking was yes, when we toprope we always use two lockers in the anchor. But when we trad lead, we always only use one locker. At least that is how I was taught, and what I have also read in the literature. How, then, does the difference come about? I had never really thought about it. Tom explained that the difference was in the supervision of the biner. When you belay someone off your trad anchor, you are right there and you can see what the biner is doing, hence one biner is OK in this situation. When you toprope, you cannot see the biner. It may be hitting the rocks in some funny way as the climber ascends the rope, thereby unscrewing itself, potentially placing the climber at great risk.
Live and learn – or better put, learn and live to climb another day. To sum up this conversation and the lesson learned here – unsupervised anchor, MUST use two biners.
Leadership Reflections
Before we can aspire to lead others, we must be able to manage ourselves. Peter Drucker wrote about this topic in his 1999 article for Harvard Business Review: “Success in the knowledge economy comes to those who know themselves – their strengths, their values, and how they best perform”. I believe this to be true. I have worked through managing myself many times as a family member, a friend, an astrophysicist, professor, higher-education administrator, and as leader of climbing teams. Karen taught me the importance of self-management once again on this trip.
The risks involved in multi-pitch, traditional climbing put great responsibility on all members of a rope team. Many a novice climber approaches climbing quite casually, as a fun and thrilling recreational outdoor activity. And it is certainly all that. But there are risks. It is implicitly understood that the leader and the experienced second bear the responsibly for the climb; they manage the risk. Students get to enjoy and experience what it is like, the exposure of being high up on the rock, the physical and technical and emotional issues that come up on a project that is bigger and more committing than anything they have experienced in their previous climbing outings. Beyond acting exactly as instructed, they are not expected to share in the responsibility of the climb.
Karen not only carried on as instructed, she paid deliberate attention to what Debbie and I were doing. She was always alert and focused on the climb. She actively participated in the many decisions we had to make during the day, and was willing to articulate her understanding and viewpoints, despite the fact that she was the junior member of our team. This allowed us to have real team discussions of our decision processes. I very much enjoyed climbing with a student who is committed, courageous, caring, and most importantly to me, serious about and with the brain engaged in what she is doing.
Karen managed herself outstandingly. And in doing so, she helped our team complete the most pitches of all ECP teams climbing that day at Seneca Rocks!
And Phil got a summit shot of us after all!
Photo credit of Seneca pictures: Jennifer Nottage, Phil Breidenbach. Sid Crosby’s picture grabbed off the web.
Passion and Perseverance, or How I Led My First 5.10a
“Perseverance is nine tenths of mastering any sport”, says Kim Catrall playing the skating coach of talented physics high-school senior and impassioned figure skater Michelle Trachtenberg in Disney’s 2005 movie “Ice Princess”. I like the movie… and the quote rings very true.
Eight and a half years into my climbing career I finally lead a 5.10a sport route. This is the kind of climbing level attainable by most “weekend warriors” who train over a period of more than a few years, less if you are talented and young. Up until the 1960s, the difficulty scale for rock climbs, which starts at 5.0, was closed, ending with 5.9. In the decades that followed grades went up to 5.10 and beyond (currently up to 5.16). This is attributed to advances in equipment, the advent of climbing gyms, and improvements in training methods.
Just last fall, I led my first 5.9 sport climb. I hung on every bolt, but I got it done. I had not expected to pinkpoint a 5.10a by Memorial Day weekend.
Leslie Evans, Greg Zamule and I had planned a climbing trip to “somewhere” for the weekend. It turned out that a group of climbers from the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh were headed for the Red River Gorge. This is one of my favorite places since it offers climbs in the lower grades side by side with very hard routes. Driving to the Red ahead of the ECP group, Leslie stayed in cell-phone contact with Ron Edwards, so that we would be able to meet up with them the next day. We agreed to climb in Muir Valley. Ron’s ECP group would leave the campground by 7 am. OK then. Coming from a motel in Campton, Leslie, Greg and I pulled in to the parking lot at Muir at 7:45 am. Surprisingly, ours was the only car there. Where was Ron?
We hiked in to the area we were planning to climb first, thinking Ron’s party would be close behind us. Greg led a pumpy 5.7, “Glory and Consequence”. Some warm up. While Leslie and I were toproping it, other people started to walk in. Every time we heard someone approaching the crag, Leslie, video camera in hand, was poised to film the arrival of Ron and the ECP crew. But, no such luck. People came and went, but where was Ron???!!!
Another lonesome climber walked up…not Ron, either, but a climber named Bram from Lexington. One climber doesn’t make a climbing team?! Bram said he was there to meet Judith Scanlion, another Pittsburgh climber with the ECP group. No Ron and no Judith either…so Bram paired up with me, and asked me what I wanted to climb.
There is a 5.10a on this wall, “Dynabolt Gold”, 70 feet, 7 bolts. It has always looked to me like I should be able to climb it. Yet, two years ago, when I had first attempted to toprope it, I couldn’t pull the crux move. At that time I had also tried to go around the crux on the left, but I couldn’t climb it that way, either. I remembered how frustrating that was, having a climb look so doable yet being so un-doable. Today seemed like the day to try it once again.
Bram led up quickly; clearly, a 5.10a lead was no problem for him. When it was my time to toprope it, and I got dumbfounded by the crux once again, he advised me not to break too far to the left in trying to avoid the crux, as I had done before. That worked! I got past that section climbing it just a little to the left of the crux, and made it almost all the way to the top before I had to take a hang because I got too pumped.
The cliff was getting more and more crowded. Bram wanted to do some harder stuff, and I belayed him on that, then I went back and did the 5.7 again. The ECPers finally arrived. Now many routes got taken. So, when it was my time to climb again, I decided to do “Dynabolt Gold” one more time. On this go, my goals were a) to pull straight through the crux without breaking left, and b) to finish the climb without hanging on the rope by finding enough rest positions on it. Bram was a super coach, talking to me along the climb and reminding me of possible rest spots as I made a clean ascent.
I was very pleased with myself and all smiles when I touched back down. Bram immediately said, “You get a half hour’s rest, and then you’re going to lead it”. I sort of immediately went into shock. I know the theory, if you can climb it, you can lead it. But 5.10a seemed to be so far above anything I had led before. All I could say was, “No, no, no, no, no way….”. Bram kept talking, and I started rationalizing. I had just toproped the climb twice, once without any hangs; I never fell. Maybe this was indeed the day for me to lead it. Bram suggested he’d put the draws back up, making it a tad easier for me because I wouldn’t need to muster the extra strength to clip the quickdraws to the bolts; all I’d have to do would be clip my rope in. As he did climb the route again, he kept talking, pointing out the moves, and where I had previously rested, so I would remember. Meanwhile I was actually getting more and more nervous.
When I had tied in to the sharp end of the rope, Bram asked if I liked talking or if I’d rather climb quietly. An excellent question, that. I rather like it quiet when I lead. Extra talk by my belayer sometimes breaks my concentration. But Bram meant something else entirely from what I thought. He immediately turned around and announced to the entire crag at the top of his voice, “Listen everyone, Regina is going to lead her first 5.10a. Could we have some quiet here for a minute, please?!” Arrgggh. Now everybody was looking at me! And Leslie came rushing over with the camera. Pressure was definitely on.
The start is overhanging and we had pre-clipped the first bolt. I got up on the ledge to my first rest. I was pretty excited, and tried to get my breathing under control. I also noticed that the smell of my sweat had changed. Maybe this is how animals can tell when you’re scared of them?!
I took a very long rest, then told Bram I’d just step up to clip the next draw, which is in the crux section, step back down, and regroup before attempting the crux itself. He was with me. After I pulled the crux move and clipped the 3rd draw, I got into my groove. I “almost” forgot that I was on lead, and executed the climb as before on toprope. I made it to the shuts without falling! I cleaned the climb, came back down. I felt exhilarated! Many thanks yet again to Bram for his encouragement, attentive belay, and superior coaching. This was my first 5.10a!
Eight and a half years is a lot of training, you may think.
Serious climbing requires serious training which requires serious life-style adjustments. Thus, what ability I have, I gain from climbing twice a week in the gym. I also climb outside every weekend. I run twice a week to keep my weight down (climbing is a strength-to-weight ratio sport); I do weights to train the antagonist muscles; and I also do yoga for flexibility.
Expert level achievement in pretty much anything takes ten years of deliberate practice. Here are a few of my personal examples of the well-studied “ten year rule”. Astronomy…I knew I loved it when I was 9 years old. It took me another 18 years to achieve expert level, which is a doctorate. Piano…I started lessons when I was 4, and took them for 12 years, but after about the first 2 years my passion was gone, while my mother drove me on. She was right in making me continue, because that taught me another important lesson, discipline, but she was wrong in thinking I’d ever love playing the piano again.
It takes perseverance to achieve expert level in any pursuit. Discipline is definitely one ingredient to perseverance. But there is something else. Something needs to feed that drive to achieve and to maintain the discipline of a decade of deliberate practice.
Passion is the fuel that can motivate us to persevere.
Who knows what climbing is yet to come for me…or maybe I’ll take up figure-skating?
Photo credit: Leslie Evans.
Eight and a half years into my climbing career I finally lead a 5.10a sport route. This is the kind of climbing level attainable by most “weekend warriors” who train over a period of more than a few years, less if you are talented and young. Up until the 1960s, the difficulty scale for rock climbs, which starts at 5.0, was closed, ending with 5.9. In the decades that followed grades went up to 5.10 and beyond (currently up to 5.16). This is attributed to advances in equipment, the advent of climbing gyms, and improvements in training methods.
Just last fall, I led my first 5.9 sport climb. I hung on every bolt, but I got it done. I had not expected to pinkpoint a 5.10a by Memorial Day weekend.
Leslie Evans, Greg Zamule and I had planned a climbing trip to “somewhere” for the weekend. It turned out that a group of climbers from the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh were headed for the Red River Gorge. This is one of my favorite places since it offers climbs in the lower grades side by side with very hard routes. Driving to the Red ahead of the ECP group, Leslie stayed in cell-phone contact with Ron Edwards, so that we would be able to meet up with them the next day. We agreed to climb in Muir Valley. Ron’s ECP group would leave the campground by 7 am. OK then. Coming from a motel in Campton, Leslie, Greg and I pulled in to the parking lot at Muir at 7:45 am. Surprisingly, ours was the only car there. Where was Ron?
We hiked in to the area we were planning to climb first, thinking Ron’s party would be close behind us. Greg led a pumpy 5.7, “Glory and Consequence”. Some warm up. While Leslie and I were toproping it, other people started to walk in. Every time we heard someone approaching the crag, Leslie, video camera in hand, was poised to film the arrival of Ron and the ECP crew. But, no such luck. People came and went, but where was Ron???!!!
Another lonesome climber walked up…not Ron, either, but a climber named Bram from Lexington. One climber doesn’t make a climbing team?! Bram said he was there to meet Judith Scanlion, another Pittsburgh climber with the ECP group. No Ron and no Judith either…so Bram paired up with me, and asked me what I wanted to climb.
There is a 5.10a on this wall, “Dynabolt Gold”, 70 feet, 7 bolts. It has always looked to me like I should be able to climb it. Yet, two years ago, when I had first attempted to toprope it, I couldn’t pull the crux move. At that time I had also tried to go around the crux on the left, but I couldn’t climb it that way, either. I remembered how frustrating that was, having a climb look so doable yet being so un-doable. Today seemed like the day to try it once again.
Bram led up quickly; clearly, a 5.10a lead was no problem for him. When it was my time to toprope it, and I got dumbfounded by the crux once again, he advised me not to break too far to the left in trying to avoid the crux, as I had done before. That worked! I got past that section climbing it just a little to the left of the crux, and made it almost all the way to the top before I had to take a hang because I got too pumped.
The cliff was getting more and more crowded. Bram wanted to do some harder stuff, and I belayed him on that, then I went back and did the 5.7 again. The ECPers finally arrived. Now many routes got taken. So, when it was my time to climb again, I decided to do “Dynabolt Gold” one more time. On this go, my goals were a) to pull straight through the crux without breaking left, and b) to finish the climb without hanging on the rope by finding enough rest positions on it. Bram was a super coach, talking to me along the climb and reminding me of possible rest spots as I made a clean ascent.
I was very pleased with myself and all smiles when I touched back down. Bram immediately said, “You get a half hour’s rest, and then you’re going to lead it”. I sort of immediately went into shock. I know the theory, if you can climb it, you can lead it. But 5.10a seemed to be so far above anything I had led before. All I could say was, “No, no, no, no, no way….”. Bram kept talking, and I started rationalizing. I had just toproped the climb twice, once without any hangs; I never fell. Maybe this was indeed the day for me to lead it. Bram suggested he’d put the draws back up, making it a tad easier for me because I wouldn’t need to muster the extra strength to clip the quickdraws to the bolts; all I’d have to do would be clip my rope in. As he did climb the route again, he kept talking, pointing out the moves, and where I had previously rested, so I would remember. Meanwhile I was actually getting more and more nervous.
When I had tied in to the sharp end of the rope, Bram asked if I liked talking or if I’d rather climb quietly. An excellent question, that. I rather like it quiet when I lead. Extra talk by my belayer sometimes breaks my concentration. But Bram meant something else entirely from what I thought. He immediately turned around and announced to the entire crag at the top of his voice, “Listen everyone, Regina is going to lead her first 5.10a. Could we have some quiet here for a minute, please?!” Arrgggh. Now everybody was looking at me! And Leslie came rushing over with the camera. Pressure was definitely on.
The start is overhanging and we had pre-clipped the first bolt. I got up on the ledge to my first rest. I was pretty excited, and tried to get my breathing under control. I also noticed that the smell of my sweat had changed. Maybe this is how animals can tell when you’re scared of them?!
I took a very long rest, then told Bram I’d just step up to clip the next draw, which is in the crux section, step back down, and regroup before attempting the crux itself. He was with me. After I pulled the crux move and clipped the 3rd draw, I got into my groove. I “almost” forgot that I was on lead, and executed the climb as before on toprope. I made it to the shuts without falling! I cleaned the climb, came back down. I felt exhilarated! Many thanks yet again to Bram for his encouragement, attentive belay, and superior coaching. This was my first 5.10a! Eight and a half years is a lot of training, you may think.
Serious climbing requires serious training which requires serious life-style adjustments. Thus, what ability I have, I gain from climbing twice a week in the gym. I also climb outside every weekend. I run twice a week to keep my weight down (climbing is a strength-to-weight ratio sport); I do weights to train the antagonist muscles; and I also do yoga for flexibility.Expert level achievement in pretty much anything takes ten years of deliberate practice. Here are a few of my personal examples of the well-studied “ten year rule”. Astronomy…I knew I loved it when I was 9 years old. It took me another 18 years to achieve expert level, which is a doctorate. Piano…I started lessons when I was 4, and took them for 12 years, but after about the first 2 years my passion was gone, while my mother drove me on. She was right in making me continue, because that taught me another important lesson, discipline, but she was wrong in thinking I’d ever love playing the piano again.
It takes perseverance to achieve expert level in any pursuit. Discipline is definitely one ingredient to perseverance. But there is something else. Something needs to feed that drive to achieve and to maintain the discipline of a decade of deliberate practice.
Passion is the fuel that can motivate us to persevere.
Who knows what climbing is yet to come for me…or maybe I’ll take up figure-skating?
Photo credit: Leslie Evans.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
80-50-20
Regina, Alex, and Phil at the south end of the Summit LedgeThe Pitt Outdoors Club had scheduled its spring-term graduation trip for the weekend of April 3-5. We have often been at Seneca Rocks the first weekend in April, and encountered everything from great climbing weather, to rain, and snow. For me this weekend was special. My guidebook indicated that it was the 5-year anniversary of my first ever lead at Seneca, the first pitch of “Old Ladies”. Indy had put me up to it then, and it was great to see him this weekend.
As usual, the week before the trip was filled with advance-planning emails and phone calls. With this being the first trad leading of the season for me, and considering the epic end of the past season, I thought it might be best if I did not take on too much, like lead two students. We concocted a plan by which I would climb with Indy. But Phil was concerned that this way, not enough students would experience a climb to the summit. So, although he had not planned to come on the trip at all, good sport that he is, he offered to join me as my experienced second. I thought this was a fantastic offer, since Phil is a fixture in the Pittsburgh climbing community and I had never had the opportunity to climb with him before. He is also a former colleague at Pitt. Having him on my team gave me enough confidence to lead with one student.
The day before the climb brought another big concern: winds were predicted to gust up to 44 mph on Saturday. I figured my main issues would be communication and the rappel. I am most familiar going down through the Traffic Jam and rappel with two ropes. It was clear that throwing the ropes would be an issue. Thankfully, my climbing sensei, Dr. Bob, was willing to give some phone advice, and we discussed possible solutions.
I drove down to Seneca Friday afternoon and met with Indy for dinner at the Front Porch. It rained heavily on and off on the ride from Pittsburgh; the rain stopped only just before I entered Seneca Valley. It was not yet windy, and as the evening progressed I was hoping that perhaps the weather system would pass us by. Indy and I had a pleasant dinner, going over more details of Saturday’s climbing plans. We also met up with a large and lively group of Baltimore climbers, and traded stories of past climbs and epics.
Indy had checked Princess Snowbird Campground earlier and reported no Pitt van sightings. This was odd since the first van, slated to leave the Pitt campus at around 2pm, should have been there. At around 9pm we returned to the campsite to check again. A few Pitt students were there; and we also learned that the University had changed its van policy for undergraduate students, no longer allowing them to use the larger passenger vans. Therefore, the large white vans we had been scouting for were not there! As we were chatting around the campfire, the other vehicles from Pitt pulled in, and we were able to find our team mates. I did a short briefing with my student, Alex Dale, an Engineering Physics major, and my second, Phil Sidel. From last term’s experience, Phil and I thought it was important that Alex check out all the gear that he needed from the club the night before our climb. So we mad sure he spoke to Garth Dellinger to get what he needed.
Ascending “Young Ladies”
When we got up Saturday morning there was frost on the cars, and it was clearly windy. The sky was blue and there was promise of a great day of climbing in the air. I was going to meet Indy for breakfast at the 4-U at 8am, but it turned out the restaurant was not yet open for the season. We swung by Tom Cecil’s, and while he was there and we had a nice chat, the chocolate muffins we hoped for were not. Since it was still quite cold, we decided to try the Valley View, which has good food but tends to be slow, oh well. Right after we had ordered, a good dozen of the Pitt students rolled in as well. Phil was with them and joined Indy and me for another discussion of the climbs ahead.
After breakfast, it was time to saddle up. Phil had brought his walkie-talkies; this would solve the communications issues. We put the rack together, loaded up Alex with as much weight as possible considering his youth and good physical condition, and made for the stairmaster. The first surprise was Roy Gap Run creek. It was gushing and the usual crossing stones were under water. We found a better place to cross, than scrambled back to the trail. The approach itself was dry; probably the high wind had dried things out.
Finally we reached the start of the first pitch and it was time to get serious. Phil and I decided to use the ropes in sequence – I would lead, Alex would follow me on the orange rope, unclip it from the pro, and clip in the purple rope for Phil. Phil would follow on purple and clean. After another short briefing on what I wanted to happen on our climb, I called the question “Do we want to do it?” On my mind was the high wind…and we did talk about that. My team felt we should give it a go, and off I went to lead the first pitch.
Getting up the first couple of feet was no problem, although it took me quite some time to place that first piece of the season. Then the climb plateaus and I always sling a little tree there. So far, so good. After that comes a steep section that goes up on the Cockscomb. This is when I became troubled. As I headed up, it was so windy that I had to hang on to the climb for dear life. I wondered how I could free a hand to place pro. I was also thinking that if something were to go wrong, people would probably blame it on very poor judgment on behalf of a crazy woman. I called down to Phil to let him know that it was REALLY WINDY on the pitch. Phil confirmed my call, but didn’t seem overly concerned. Given his vast experience, I felt maybe I was not crazy, just too timid… I decided to wait for a lull in the wind, than I climbed as fast and as far as I possibly could. I got a bomber piece in, and decided to press on. It worked. And as soon as I got onto the East Face, there was no wind at all.
Alex came up next. He climbed very quickly. He seemed delighted when he came to the belay, because he was finally out of the cold wind and basking in the warm sunlight. He also was surprised by the drop-off, realizing that we were already quite high up. Phil arrived next and we did the usual sorting of bodies and gear and re-stacking of ropes to get ready for the second pitch. Phil commented on how little gear I had place on the first pitch, and I told him I had climbed fast when there seemed to be a lull in the wind, also, given last season’s POC climb, that I was trying to wean myself off of too much gear in general to increase speed and safety. I did ensure him that I would protect the 2nd pitch, which entails a traverse, with enough pieces to make everyone comfortable.
I lead the second pitch. All went well. I did one cam placement that I wasn’t sure about. And indeed, when Alex started the pitch, then had to go back to sort something out, that piece was not good for the backward force it took, and it came out. There was still enough pro in the traverse, however. When Phil came over he said he had never before taken the “high” version of the traverse and that he really enjoyed it. I was pleased that he could find a new experience on a climb that he has done so many times before. Now we also began to hear and see other teams who had started their day on the East Face. We crossed path with Carlos’ team.
The 3rd pitch went like a charm. Now we really started to see other teams. Carlos and his two teammates; Mike and his partner. Carlos’ team pressed on for the summit, while we relaxed and Phil got comfy to take a little nap on the Summit Ledge. They returned reporting too much wind to summit. Alex was very curious, however, to scramble up the 4th pitch and to check on conditions at the summit. So off we went to have a look see. Alex got a very good view of the valley below from above the Conn’s West rappel station. I tried to climb up to the summit, but as soon as I came out from behind the west-facing fin, the wind was once again of hang-on-for-dear-life strength. Since the climb to the summit cannot be protected, I decided to abort, and downclimbed. Alex was sad, but I promised him there would be other days and he would summit some other time this season.
When we came back, we were going to rappel off a tree that Carlos had left a sling on.
But in the meantime, Vance’s team of three had climbed up and had the tree in use and Mitch’s team of three was lined up behind him. So we put in a stake to be next team after them. Another four climbers had come up on Windy Corner, and decided to use the West Face rappel routes through the Traffic Jam Chimney. However, they pretty soon returned deeming that way too windy.The guidebook warns of a tree on top of Old Ladies that is no longer safe to rappel off of. But since 9 people had gone off the tree Carlos had picked, and it looked pretty good, plus Carlos had also put a rap ring on the sling, I thought we give that a go. Normally, I like for my second to go first, so s/he can give the student a fireman’s belay, while I make sure that the student starts on rappl correctly. Phil was, however, not familiar with the rappel route, yet very comfortable to supervise Alex on his descent. So we decided that I should go first.
All went well, but instead of the Lower Broadway Ledge, which I had hoped to reach and which Carlos had also thought we would reach with two ropes (note to self, there are bolted anchors on Frosted Flake straight below this tree one can reach with a single rope rappel), we were on Upper Broadway. From Lower Broadway we could have easily hiked off going around the South End. But getting off the Upper Broadway Ledge would be more of a hike. Vance’s team had slung a tree, and offered us to rap down on their ropes. We were pleased with the offer. But the rappel itself, as it turned out, stink!, stank!!, stunk!!! We had to go around trees and through branches and got very scratched up. Working the rope out of some branches, I got a splinter in my hand. And Phil was bleeding quite a bit by the time he was on the ground.
We still had to hike off. It turned out the leaves were about hip high in places, and it was hard to get good footing. I thought I recognized the start of Worrell’s Thicket, where there is a trail, and Alex and I made off in that direction. On hiking over, I saw a plaque that I had not seen before, of a fellow climber who fell to his death off the East Face in 2003.
My team made it out onto the trail in good spirits. A group hug on Roy Gap road sealed our experience for the day.
While waiting for other climbers to show up for dinner, I relaxed in front of the Gendarme with a sixpack. I learned from Ack that the wind had actually reached 50mph! Phil showed up first, and then Indy, and we had a good dinner at the Front Porch trading stories about the day’s climbs.
Because 2009 is the International Year of Astronomy, Indy had brought his telescope with him. The sky was dark and crisp. He set up a short distance from the campfire, and the students got a chance to see Saturn, and the open cluster h and chi Persei. Fatigue soon set in, and we decided it was time to call it a day.
Sunday on Totem
Last term, there were no POC students who wanted to climb on Sunday, so Indy and I had made plans to possible climb at the Narrows, closer to home for both of us. But our students were quite ready to head out again in the morning. Nick wanted to lead Candy Corner if Indy belayed him. Phil wanted to visit with Tom and hang out. I felt that Alex and I had had enough climbing time together that I was comfortable for him to belay me on lead. I decided to do the first pitch of Totem, so we could stay together with Indy’s team and see how the day would go.
When we caught up with Indy and Nick, Nick had just started his lead of Candy Corner, and they planned to toprope Ye Gods and Little Fishes when they were done, so Alex and I thought we could jump on that too after Totem.
All went very well on our climb of Totem, and we both enjoyed watching Indy and Nick and the Southern Pillar from our vantage point. By the time we got down and done, another three Pitt students had shown up, however, and they were in line for Ye Gods.I decided it would be fun for Alex to place some gear, and handed him the rack. We made our way over from Totem all the way to Ecstasy. There were 4 teams on Ecstasy, one at the first belay, one starting up, one in line, and one toproping it off to the east side. We had a pleasant chat and I got some beta on Ecstasy from them. By the time Alex and I made it back to Ye Gods, some complicated rope swapping with another team in the Candy Corner anchors was in progress. It did not seem likely that we could get on it.
Indy and I sent
Nick and Alex on their way to meet another group that was toproping off the North Peak. We gathered our gear and hiked out. By then, it had grown much later than we had planned. Phil was in the parking lot, waiting for the first van to leave for Pittsburgh. Indy was ready to do some more geocaching, rather than climb at the Narrows. So I offered Phil a ride home to the ‘burgh. Since it was still early in the afternoon, we took a scenic road home that Phil knew very well, rather than take the highways, as I always do. We had a relaxing and very pretty spring drive home, with plenty of good conversation.
Reflections
As I think about this weekend, I cannot help but pit physical ability against experience. Alex, the youngest, was definitely physically the fittest member of our team. But he had no experience with multi-pitch trad climbing. Phil, on the other hand, brought his vast leadership experience to our venture, while the ascent of the stairmaster was clearly a physical strain for him. I was somewhere in the middle, huffing and puffing on the stairmaster to keep up with Alex, not as experienced in leading teams as Phil.
Leading our team from this position made me think of a bowtie, where the leader is the “knot”, the place where a good amount of physical ability connects with a good amount of experience. I do wish very much I had come to climbing earlier in life, so that I could be trad leading for a longer time. But, there is no time like the presence!Photo credits: Phil Sidel and Mark “Indy” Kochte
Also see Phil's report.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
My Second "First Ascent"
R&R, 5.8FA: Regina Schulte-Ladbeck and Ray Burnsworth
14 March 2009
Foley's Wall.
The climb is the first line in from the left corner of the wall.
It is always such a delight to image that I was the first person to see and then climb a new line.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Contentment
Can you see just how content I am feeling with the spring sun on my skin? The start of this year brought some awesome ice conditions to Western PA. I finally got up some of the local grade IV water ice and I managed to set up toprope on one of the secret cliffs (>100 feet high with big freaking fear factor). Thanks for another good ice season, Dr. Bob, Tim, Laura, and Rayman.
Yet it has been simply wonderful to get back on rock this month. And when do we ever get to rock climb outdoors in PA every weekend in March?! I have also already climbed at the Red, where the photo was taken. Good to climb with you once again, Indy and Michelle. I do so enjoy the easy leads in Muir Valley.
One of the most basic questions in leadership is how to lead ourselves.
A few years back the positive psychology movement has made its way into the leadership literature. A positive ratio of positive-to-negative interactions appears to be a good predictor of how successfully we are leading our public as well as our private lives. This can positively impact the organizations in which we lead. And at the end of the day, the “magic ratio” also determines how we self-rate our productivity and happiness.
One interestingly positive interaction I had this month was meeting an older rock bum at the Red. I have met young ones before, who take time off from school to climb, and, as teens and tweens, don’t seem to mind living out of a tent for a season. But this one was definitely in his thirties. A relaxed and friendly man with a patched up belay jacket who was easy going and fun to talk to, although he seemed to long for a room. This started to make me think: Could I be like that? Seriously, could I ever? Could this be me when I retire?
Astonishingly, I recently found out that while my needs and likes continue to be important in the second half of my life, my wants are starting to recede into being less important than they once were. This I also discovered while climbing. I have been bouldering this month. Did I ever want to go bouldering? I think not. But now that I have, bouldering with new friends has given me a wealth of new positive interactions. Bob R., aka Bunny Bob, you may have started out as the only game in town, but now I rather think you are the best!
Knowing ourselves, our needs and wants and likes, does help us to lead our lives. But sometimes all it takes to be content are tired muscles, a ray of sunshine, and the kindness of our friends.
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