*Disclaimer:
So if you were one of the few who read my first trip report, you know I literally just started climbing two months ago with my first outdoor trip in March. You'd also know my trip reports are more about my thoughts while climbing, rather than about climbing technicalities. So as a disclaimer, sorry if my trip reports are personal spray, but I believe writing should be as raw and exposed as the rock we climb on.

Trip Report #2:

Though I originally planned to go for a long training bike ride last Sunday since I have a triathlon in two weeks, when climbing friends from the gym texted with an opportunity to climb on granite rather than plastic, the decision was a no-brainer; the Tri training would have to be deferred...the mountain was calling.

However, on the morning of the trip, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. unable to sleep- partly due to excitement for the trip and partly due to gut wrenching anger…well, let’s be honest, mostly due to gut wrenching anger. With no regard for the present- I was simply angry about the past and future while tossing the question of “why” in my head. First it started with questioning “why” about the past since I was reeling from a week-old fresh wound of confirming that my original climbing "coach" had the character of a man who takes one "girlfriend" to Thanksgiving with his family while he texts and calls another "girlfriend" behind each other's back. Next I started worrying “why” about the future since on Friday afternoon I received word from my doctor that recent blood work indicated possible thyroid cancer and I’d need additional testing to confirm diagnosis. Regardless, after only three hours of sleep, I was hopped up on sleepless adrenaline and full of beta from my former climbing “coach." I was more than ready to exert some excess energy out on the mountain and I met my climbing friends for what would be my first multi-pitch climb and first rappel.

Due to closed roads, we ended up at a Plan B destination at Indian Springs. We planned to spend the morning warming up on some 5.8-5.9 climbs and then do three sport, slab wall pitches to reach the upper-upper tier about 250ft up. Being that I had only climbed single 40 ft jaunts outside once before, I was eager to finally get to climb to the top of something- even if it was infantile in size. I had been warned by "coach" that climbing, like any activity, can have liars, people who are careless with safety and otherwise just derelict as#@&%es. But despite protective warnings about some climbing communities not being welcoming to newbies, I felt blessed to enjoy the company and support of eight more experienced climbers than I: four men, four women; ranging in age, nationalities, and abilities- but all good hearted people who were safe and unpretentious.

On the 5.8 and 5.9 top rope warm-ups, I found myself talking and joking with ease as my big toe managed to find enough nooks and crannies up the 50ft slab. I laughed at the remarkable difference between this second venture on real rock, in comparison to my first time in March. This time, there was no fear of failing which enabled me to truly commit all 130 lbs of me on blind trust. I was climbing as if I had nothing to lose, and I was loving it.

So between my new German climbing partner who loves to watch me push myself and my knack for delusional optimism, for the first pitch I chose a 5.10c slab route. Again I noticed how comfortable I felt flagging, smearing, edging, toeing and all the other fancy footworkisms that my “coach” had once taught. Somewhere between pushing down on tiny crevices with my finger tips and placing my legs in spider-like positions on the wall, I couldn’t help but notice that the pure joy of being on a slab of rock is that it forces you to truly be in the present moment. For years I’ve tried yoga, long hours of running, and meditation, but nothing quite quiets the monkey mind like being mano-a-mano on the rock- ...where nothing in your past can haunt you and nothing yet unknown can hurt you.

But it was during this blissful introspection when I looked up and saw although I was so close to the final ledge, I had nothing left to reach for, nothing left to push off from- nothing left at all. So I called up to my belayer for a break while I figured this thing out. I sat there in my harness in the cool spring breeze staring at the slab of granite before me. A few feet to my right, the route was rated a 5.9 and I could see a few holds I could do if I just traversed over; a few feet to my left, the route was a 5.10 d but was closer to where I was already positioned. Then it dawned on me that even natural formations like this small mountain, had boundaries for a reason. In fact, we all have boundaries of where we give of ourselves and take from others, but sadly sometimes they easily get blurred in painful ways when we don’t stay true to ourselves. And how many times have I succumbed to temptation to take the easier route in life, only to be disappointed; and how many times, especially most recently, have I tried to force a more challenging route to work, just because it’s so close? Things just sometimes aren't always what they seem to be on the surface. In true climbing cliche fashion, one could say we've all been there when our boundaries for one reason or another, went down the proverbial slippery slope. So in the spirit of just staying true to myself and the course I set out upon, I looked again at the 5.10c slab before me, chose to trust a possible hold up above, and did a high heel-hook as if I actually knew what I was doing. As I scrambled on the ledge to the cheshire grin of my German belayer, I chuckled internally that my “coach” would’ve been proud since I once flipped the bird to him for merely suggesting the heel-hook maneuver. And yet, in this moment, it was simply just survival instinct kicking in.

As I waited on the ledge while the next climber was coming up, all I felt was pure, peaceful, unadulterated joy. Looking across the Sierra valley area, with the sun wearing down my sunscreen, it was if the wind easily blew away any left over anger I released from the past, and any excess worry about the “what-ifs” in the future. After all, how could I carry anger forward for someone who not only introduced me to a sport I fell in love with, but who also taught me everything from creating “serene” anchors, cleaning cams and most importantly, raunchy climbing humor. And as for the unknown future, well I’ve learned we all surprise ourselves with what we are capable of handling- after all- who’d a thunk someone as scared as I used to be, would be someone who now uses whatever means necessary to climb onward and upward.

And perhaps that’s the beauty of climbing- ample opportunities for perspective to understand “why.” We all need to take our own routes in life, and if by chance I bump into “coach” on a rock again some day, I’ll just nod and smile, and remember, it’s because of bittersweet experiences in the past, that I get to be a part of the beautiful possibilities in my present. And it’s because of these truly joyful moments in the now, that give me courage to trust whatever comes in the future.

So when it was finally time to leave the ledge in order to move on to the next pitch, I was eagerly ready to climb on for whatever lay ahead….

So climb on my friends...climb on…