Blind Dating (or Climbing...it is supposed to be fun)

I found my new climbing partner here in an internet forum for English-speaking expats. I had been hoping that maybe things would happen more organically- I would meet someone in my German class with similar interests, or S would end up meeting some climbers at work. After a month or so of finding nothing, I turned to the internet. Although I have never done it, I suspect my quest for a climbing partner is not unlike internet dating. I perused the postings and found one by someone who seemed intelligent, experienced (both in climbing and with the area) and was interested in doing longer routes in the mountains. I sent him a private message and fortunately he responded, because he was the only one I contacted. We corresponded by email and set up a time to go climbing. As I took the train to meet him, all of those first date kinds of questions rattled around in my brain, but mostly I was just excited to get out and climb. We had no problems finding each other at the train station. We chose a climb in one of his guidebooks and chatted as we drove towards the pass where the climb is located. Either I have good character judgement or I was just lucky because we seemed to hit it off pretty well right from the beginning.
One thing I have learned since that first outing is that the weather in Switzerland can be extremely variable within and among the different regions and it is always a good idea to have a Plan B. As the road narrowed, became more winding and began to climb more steeply, the small patch of dark clouds in the distance that we had been steadily approaching seemed to get darker and by the time we arrived at the trailhead we were in a steady, light rain. How does Plan B sound? We turned around and drove an hour back down the valley to where we had began and then started the process all over again as we climbed up into another steep valley. I am prone to carsickness and I was well on my way to feeling pukey after our first failed attempt. By the time we pulled to the side of the road at the second place I was feeling weak and listless. We hiked the 1/2 hour approach to the base of the wall and looked up at the climb. I let Colin take the lead when we started climbing since I was unaccustomed to the rating system and to climbing on limestone. I also hadn't been climbing in some time and had spent most of last season nursing an ankle injury, which further reduced my confidence level. The route was rated French 6a (5.10b-ish), which is about as hard a route as I was up for trying on my first outing. The route was 7 pitches long, with the last pitch being the hardest one. The last pitch was on a steep headwall with a lot of exposure, and the climbing was delicate and balancey on small edges. The combination of all of those things and my being out of shape for climbing left me feeling spent at the end of the pitch and glad that it was time to descend.

Me hanging out over big air on the last pitch... For perspective, if you look really closely (you can click on the pic to expand) you can see our packs as black dots at the bottom, follow the line of the rope strand hanging on left all the way to the bottom of the cliff.

Colin at the base of the wall checking out another route (look closely, he's in the center)

The Second Date
Will he call me again? Or was I too [fill in the blank] or not enough [fill in the blank]? Over the course of nearly 2 more months we tried to arrange a time to climb a handful of times. Our schedules weren't lining up very well. Believe it or not I had stuff going on. We finally arranged a mid-week day to climb with nice weather. This followed several days of rain that had also fallen as snow in the mountains. Colin had some work he had to do in the morning and I was sending off my mom and step father who had been visiting for the last week so the plan was for me to take the train to his town and then we would drive up into the mountains from there. I met him at 11am and we chose a route that wasn't too long since we would be getting a late start (again). The sequence of events was not unlike last time; take a train, get in a car drive for an hour or so up increasingly steep, windy roads etc. As we got into the mountains we could see that there was a fair bit of new snow at the higher elevations. We were planning to climb at about 2500m (8200ft), which was likely to be in that snow zone. Approaching the cliff at the top of an incredibly steep valley, we could see that the snow at the top was melting and the wall was completely wet. There was a nearby cliff that we could also try but it meant retracing the windy road back down the valley and then ascending by a narrow private road back up to the same elevation. I had already had just about as much windy road driving as I could handle for the morning before we turned around to head back down. By the time we went down and back up the other road I was completely nauseous and weak, very much interested in getting out the car and walking, but not so interested in the thought of climbing. This cliff looked drier but it was hard to tell from a distance so we decided to go check it out and climb what we could. The cliff looked close when we stopped the car and got out but there was still a good hour of steep hiking to get to the base of the climb. Most of the approach was covered in a few inches of wet snow. This normally wouldn't concern me much, however, it was loose wet, snow over steep slippery grass, which doesn't make for the best footing. The further we went, the worse it got as we transitioned into snow over loose scree while crossing a steep gully and then some scrambling on snow covered scree, crumbling rock and more steep wet snow-covered grass. At the base of the climb, I felt like I had already climbed the first pitch, only without a rope. We perched precariously on the steep slope and ledges to put on our harnesses and prepare for the real climbing. I was still feeling nauseous and weak from the ride up and once more relinquished the lead to Colin. For the first few pitches the climbing was ok but not great. I felt like crap and was thinking about how much I should be enjoying myself rather than how much I was not enjoying myself.
"How many more pitches do we have?" Low clouds that had been floating about the peaks were now enveloping our cliff. Climbing, even with a partner, can be a very introspective experience. You spend long periods of time in your own space, belaying your partner or climbing, punctuated by short times together at belay stations. I felt all the more isolated as the clouds swirled around me, and the valley below me and the mountains across the valley moved in and out of view. The valley was steep and you could see all the way to the bottom (probably 5 or 6,000 ft) and at times, when I couldn't see the bottom of the cliff due to the clouds or when I looked straight out, I felt like I was that high off of the ground.
"It is so beautiful up here." I am lulled by the surreal quality of the clouds. I'm on the verge of being cold and I still feel nauseous. "How many more pitches do we have?"
The next pitch traversed across into a chimney system. I couldn't see what he was doing, but Colin spent a lot of time at the base of the chimney. He yelled over to me to watch him closely. The chimney was wet and there were some tricky moves to get up into it. Once in the chimney he set up a belay and I joined him. We peered up into the chimney and didn't talk much. It was like a big drainpipe for the snow that was melting off up higher on the mountain. It was dripping wet and cold, the sides of the chimney were polished and slick, and the clouds were still swirling about, isolating us from the rest of the world. Now we were having the full alpine climbing experience. Colin and I both struggled up the wide chimney and past a chockstone, thrashing and pulling on gear, only to find it wasn't as bad as either one of us thought it might be. We prepared to descend and I was finally starting to feel better. We rappeled back to the base of the climb and begin to pack up our gear. Colin dropped a boot from our steep perch and we both helplessly watched it bounce down the sleep slope and over a small drop into a gully that continued down the mountain. With no idea how far down it continued, we began picking our way down the slope hoping we could retrieve it. The going was a little bit easier now because the snow had melted while we were climbing. However, the slope was still steep and wet and had a lot of loose scree. As we traversed under the cliff band into the gully, I scanned for the missing boot. Defying the usual trend of garishly colored European mountaineering boots, Colin's boots are actually all black, which made them considerably less easy to find. I was about to continue down the slope when I looked down almost at my feet and saw the boot. The clouds were retreating and we returned to the car with the beautiful evening light illuminating the mountains around us. Back at the car I ate my first real food since breakfast (other than the granola bar I forced into my queasy belly before starting the climb). I still had 3 hours of travel left before I arrived back home.



Third Time is the Charm.
Last week we planned another climbing outing. Colin sent me a few options by email the day before and they both looked great. Long alpine granite climbs. I wanted to be excited but I felt like I was carrying some extra baggage going into this one. Why was I not enjoying climbing? Was I done with climbing? Or did I just have to admit that these long days with driving on mountain roads weren't working for me? One of the things that I have always liked about climbing is the range of feelings and emotions it can evoke and how these can be both opposing and complementary, like yin and yang. Fear, euphoria, frustration, accomplishment, focus, drifting, exhaustion, excitement, isolation, camaraderie... the list goes on. All of these are part of the human experience and they are all a part of the climbing experience. Just like life, climbing doesn't always have to be fun. The night before the climb in my pre-bedtime brilliance I decided that it might be a good idea to take a Bonine to help my motion sickness. I reasoned that if I took it now at 10 pm, then it should wear off by late morning when we would be arriving at the trailhead. After chewing up the little raspberry-flavored delight I remembered that they are supposed to last for 24 hours not the 12 hours that I was somehow deluded into thinking. Too late now unless I want to induce vomiting. Maybe I'll still be a bit drowsy but it has to be better than the way I have been feeling the last 2 times out.
I woke up at 5:50 am before my alarm, ready to go. Left for the train at 6:30, Colin picked me up at the destination station at 8 am, we arrived at the trailhead somewhere around 9:30, hiked into the base of the route, including traversing a small glacier and were ready to start climbing by 11:30. So far that is about 5 hours of travelling just to get to the climb. I felt a little bit queasy on the car ride up to the pass where the trailhead started but I had plenty of fresh air and hiking before the climb started to forget about all of that. The day was beautiful and the climb took a line that climbed up into a prominent corner that ended at the top of a ridge. (On the photo the line leaves the glacier and follows the buttress just left of the dark corner that runs all the way to the top. At the top of the buttress, the route moves back into the corner and follows that to the top. The one big bummer was that in my haste to start the climb I left my climbing pack with camera and water at the bottom.) Colin shared some of his iced tea with me but you won't be seeing any photos from during the climb. The route was exactly what I needed, really nice granite climbing in a beautiful setting. The route had 10 pitches and topped out at nearly 3300m (10,800 ft.) on a narrow ridge with great views over the other side. I felt great and totally enjoyed myself. So much for being done with climbing.

Colin climbs the first pitch...