Thanks to my readers for nominating Fun Climbs Around the World as one of the top blogs about extreme sports.
And thanks again for voting this one of the best blogs for information about rock climbing.
To see which other blogs share the top ten spots, see 2010 Top 10 Extreme.
Elephant’s Perch with Saddleback Lakes in foreground
After we climbed the Mountaineer’s Route, and a rest day, we headed up to Sideline. This route is basically Astro Elephant, with an easier start that avoids the first two difficult pitches.
Though the description for Astro Elephant states that the climb is 5.10-, I’d been told by three climbers (who climb harder than me!) that it’s hard 5.11. To back up this claim, when ryan and I went to the store named Elephant’s Perch in Ketchum to get topos and recent informaiton, one of the people who works there said,
“Oh, Astro Elephant is 5.11c”. Why, when the general consensus names is 11c, it remains in the books as 5.10 is beyond me, but that’s the prerogative of first ascents - call it what, and how hard, you like.
Sideline started with a pleasant, short 5.8 pitch to a comfy ledge, that I led. Ryan led the next 5.9 pitch, with a face-climbing crux, to another good ledge. We found amazing face climbing on incut solution pockets and small, incut edges, unlike any I”ve seen on granite elsewhere.
After that , he ran together pitches 3 and 4, to the big ledge that traverses half the face. Two traversing pitches followed , to get us up to the crux pitch - seven. Ryan, who’d shown himself to be our face expert, started up this one. It’s inobvious, and we had one wrong start before traversing first slightly right, then up a thin layback flake, and then left. This traverse left provided some excitement - it’s hard for 5.9+ (never trust 5.9+; we both thought it had 5.10 moves) and would engender a pendulum for the second. Luckily we both made it across, to another good ledge.
I led the supposed 5.8 off-width to chimney pitch and struggled at length. After placing every piece of large gear we had with us, I belayed partway up this pitch, letting Ryan lead the next section of hard, semi-runout, face to yet another good ledge.
We reached the top in good time - about 6 hours, and descended the gully in good light.
Myopia with climbers in the shade on the left-facing corner
Next day, we watched two climbers start up Myopia, a 5.11 up prominent corners. It looks like a great climb, and one I’d like to come back to when I’m strong enough!
“It’s way too hot to climb there now!” I heard this morning.
Weather, temperature, and the presence or absence of rain become frequent preoccupations among traveling (or even stay-at-home) climbers.
Here’s a great site for weather in the United States:
They don’t yet post weather outside the United State.
The weather site helps to avoid spring snow showers.
That’s my tent, buried under the snow!
Fun Climbs Around The World, was determined to be one of the best blogs to learn about climbing, and has received the 2010 Top 10 Extreme Sports: Climbing Blogs award!
‘Zuma Bowl, with 400 acres, almost doubles the available terrain at A-Basin. Today, 17 trails and 200 acres will add to the skiable terrain at the Basin.
I was teaching at Keystone today, so didn’t ski the bowl myself, but I plan to get out to Montezuma Bowl soon and will take some photos and report on the conditions.
For several years, I’ve visited Professor Paul Strom’s class, The Ethics of Ambition, to talk with the class about ethics and ambition in the climbing community. In the past, I’ve mentioned various ethical dilemmas climbers encounter and we’ve discussed what would be the better, or best thing to do in a given situation.
On this visit, I began with a discussion of ambition. To clarify this concept, I looked up a few definitions:
1. An eager or strong desire to achieve something, such as fame or power.
2. The object or goal desired:
[Middle English ambicioun, excessive desire for honor, power, or wealth]
and in Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary
1. an ardent desire for rank, fame, or power
and in Dictionary.com:
an earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction, as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment:
I like the last definition best, as it includes “the willingness to strive for its attainment.”
Climbers, like other competitive athletes, train hard, sacrificing much, and risking even more, to attain their climbing goals, such as a coveted first ascent of an unclimbed peak.
So where do we encounter ethical dilemmas – training hard and sacrifice are generally considered beneficial. Training hard may cause us to neglect our friends or family, and we may sacrifice time with our family to devote to our training. With young athletes, such as the Olympic gymnasts, track starts, swimmers and many others, where the most competitive athletes seem to be around 16 (supposed) years old, this sacrifice is made as much by the athlete’s parents as the athlete themselves. But with endurance sports, such as mountain climbing, marathons, and the Tour de France, the older athletes perform better. In this case, the competitor’s husbands, wives, or children often share the burden of sacrifice.
One big question arose:
Should women with children be less willing to risk their lives on Himalayan peaks? When Alison Hargraves died on K2, leaving behind two toddlers, the press expressed outrage at her actions. However, when numerous male climbers died on many Himalayan peaks, the press was much less vocal.
Is it less ethical for mothers, than for fathers, to leave their children to climb in the Himalayas?
I don’t think so!
However, I’d like to hear the class’s opinion on this and other questions I posed.
Jonas snowshoeing with Nanda
She’s not content to be second in line, but soon passes to get to the front!
Our normally very active Entlebucher now spends most of her time laying on the floor, panting. she’s geting fatter, and apparently hotter, as she tries to find a cool spot in the shade.
Nanda cooling off on the flagstone floor
Joey, the stud
We mated our Entlebucher bitch, Nanda Devi with Holden von Brunswick (Joey). Below are more photos of Joey.
Joey
We expect our litter in late August and our puppies will be ready for new homes in October. Please see Nanda’s website for photos of the bitch.
With a deluge!
On Thursday night, the rain started. By Friday morning, we had several-inch-deep puddles of water just below the campsite. One of our neighbors, packed up his stuff and left. Friday we had a severe downpour in the morning and clearing in the afternoon. Friday night, it rained. Saturday morning dawned cold. We had planned on hot, dry weather during our Australia climbing trip and weren’t well prepared for days or weeks of rain.
By today (Tuesday, April 28) we’ve had 5 days of rain ( I don’t know how many inches. Or for that matter, how many centimeters. I always ask locals, “What’s the average rainfall?”, to a reply of,
“Well I don’t know. We’ve been in drought for the past 13 years and I don’t know what it was before that.”
However, the amount of rain we’ve had made me wonder about the frame of reference for this drought. To a British settler from the wet UK, which gave the world the flush toilet, several months without rain would seem like a drought. To anyone who’s lived in California, with a dry season from May until October, several months without rain means it’s summer.So I’m beginning to suspect that the drought is a matter of frame of reference.
When I checked on the net, it states: “The annual average precipitation at Horsham is 47.93 Inches.” and another site states that, “The Horsham Rural City Council sits comfortably in-between with an average annual rainfall of 450mm.”
I haven’t found the rainfall figures for the past several years, but 45 cm is close to 20 inches, which is considerably more annual rainfall than many parts of California or Colorado, two states where I’ve climbed a lot, so I suspect that it’s a drought from what were relatively wet conditions.
I’ll try to find more numbers on rain, but it sure seems to me like the drought is ending, as we sit with wet shoes, damp clothes, and will head to sleep in our soggy tent!
“Don’t you dare feed the emu,” Whympey admonished me.
We had gone to Little Desert National park for the afternoon with Andy, a climber camping nearby who had a car. Two Scottish women who had been staying in camp in a “Hippie Camper” van, and whom I’d talked to about the van they were renting, had told me about the emu in Little Desert.
They had camped at Little Desert over Easter to avoid the crowds that descended upon Arapiles.
“The emu will eat bread from your hand,” one said.
“Hold the bread on a stick,” added the other. “He comes running over and I was scared he’d bite my hand.”
Having been bitten by a penguin, and lost some skin in the process, I wasn’t about to try getting bitten by a bird that’s bigger than I am. Still, I wanted to get close to the emu, so I’d brought some bread with us to Little Desert. Whympey is the park’s ranger and caretaker. The park, at its main facility, the Lodge, has a number of guest apartments for rent. Whympey was at the front desk when we arrived.
“I heard there’s an emu?” I asked him.
“Yes, Nuisance; he’s around here somewhere,” Whympey replied and walked outside with us. “He’s gone back by the shed.”
With Whympey’s help, we soon located the huge bird. It looks like a very large feather duster on huge stilts. The brown feathers appear very dense and thick, to keep it warm over the cold winter. The bird has immense feet and can run quite fast. I hadn’t gotten close to any of the other emus I’d seen in the Grampians, and was very excited to look at one closely.
“Where did he come from?” I asked Whympey.
“We bred him,” he replied. “We had the parents and several chicks.” Amazing to think of something that huge as chicks. Whympey explained that the other chicks had run off into the wild, before they’d put up a fence around the refuge.
I mentioned hearing about the emu from the Scottish women and Whympey enjoined me to not feed the bird. There went my idea of getting close enough to pet one!
“Can I touch him? I asked. “Will he bite?”
“No, but he’ll kick you,” Whympey responded. Well, with legs that size, getting kicked did not seem like fun.
Whympey watched us like a hawk while we were near the shed. The emu then headed for the front lawn, we went on one of the signed and numbered nature walks, and Whympey returned inside to conduct his business. When we returned from the guided walk, the emu was still on the front lawn and Whympey nowhere in sight. My big chance! I pulled a piece of bread from my pocket and held it up. Sure enough, Nuisance came running. As this large animal charging me neared, I concluded that perhaps throwing the bread on the ground might be a better idea.
He came nearby and gulped the bread off the ground. I held up another small shred of bread, and he came closer. I never had the courage (or stupidity) to hold any of the bread out to the emu, but instead dropped in to the ground.
I cajoled my son into taking pictures of the great bird, while Tristan told me to stop feeding it because I’d get all us into trouble.
Sure enough, Whympey came charging out of the office.
“You’re naughty!” he yelled. “Very naughty!”.
Well yes, I was, and admitted it. As a biologist, I know it’s not good to feed wild animals, and especially with inappropriate food. But as a very curious visitor, I had a burning desire to view this marvelous bird up close. Let’s hope he suffers no harm from the bread.
