Climbing at Cannon Cliff

Sunday, September 5, 2010.
Today I drove all the way to Cannon Cliff to climb. I'd never been before, but the description of "The Northeast's Only Big Wall" lured me in like a moth hyped up on E, frappuccinos, and motivation to a psychedelic rave of fire. Of course, I was a party of one moth. I found the place alright, after 3 hours - think I did it in 2.5 on the way there - of driving. Parked. Signed in at the red box for climbers registering; they requested emergency contact information, so I said that I get itchy if I touch poison ivy; they also asked for the exact date and time of arrival and departure, so I put question marks next to my exact dates, like 09/03?/10. Good thing - today was the 5th, not the 3rd! I also put 'evening' as my expected return time, and 'same day' as the date. I was correct on both accounts. Go me! [Below I am on Pitch 2 of Lakeview with the lake and parking lot far below.]I had a spectacular day, in case you were wondering. It wasn't that I crushed the routes or did many of them, or shared it with others, or found Buddha in a crack, or that I actually managed to tan while climbing. Nope. None of those things actually happened! I climbed alone. I didn't finish the route I planned to. I did 3 pitches of it, which I truly enjoyed. The first pitch I free soloed. The second and third pitches I rope soloed. The fourth looked less interesting but I was happy to try it, until a refreshing rain dropped by! We both got soaked, the rope and I. Luckily, I had my Camelbak backpack, which sports a waterproof cover of blinding yellow color. I rappeled and downclimbed.Alone, I took in the view. I took in the wetness of my pants, especially my thighs, which were soaked more than the rest of me because the wet rope running through the belay device squeezed most of the water out of the rope and onto my thighs. I perhaps should have extended it, so it would drip and be higher up. But no harm was done. And not extending it saved time. [Third pitch pictured below.]Time that I spent hiking southward again towards the Whitney Gilman ridge end of the cliff. I found Reppy's Crack. Great crack, 'tis. In fact, it is dubbed by some as the best crack in the Northeast. It runs harder than I'd like to do solo, but heck, I have time, right? I make it up. Some climbers hike by to get to a different climb, I assume. And they pause numerous times to see what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, and to see on my face why, or so I assume. I tell them I'm good and make a tired high pitch noise, like if Chris Sharma makes lion noises, I made a tired house cat noise. Me entendiste?Standing again on solid ground, content after some good cracks and solos, I'm happy. It really has been an excellent day! But wait - I forgot a #2 cam. That's not good. I definitely don't have it on my harness, and I definitely remember running it up the crack a lot. Crap. I'm way too tired to climb the crack again. But isn't Reppy's Crack an alternative first pitch to Moby Grape? I check the side of this feature and find a steepening gully. Remember it's rained. So some spots are wet. And in the gully, what isn't well can very well be chossy (read: loose). I figure it's worth a shot to rescue my #2. I'm frugal now. Misplacing an expensive piece of gear was not on my itinerary. I start soloing again. Maybe 20 meters up I find myself at a crossroads again. My only two options don't seem to be solid rock. I don't trust either very much, especially with my life. So, I put in a #9 stopper with a bail biner I had found, and rappelled.Bummer, huh? Well, it was a great day. I got better at rope soloing, which remains a lot harder than climbing with a partner, as well as taking photos "on lead" while doing so! Really, losing a stopper while attempting to save a cam is a worthy loss. And, on the upside, I'm going to make some climber super duper happy. Reppy's Crack will be their favorite crack in the Northeast! Moreover, what made this day great was not success. It wasn't about making it to the top, or doing it quickly, or any statistic. It was about inviting fear and frustration and rain and mishaps in, and enjoying the challenge of experiencing these different emotions and circumstances. And not overcoming them. But enveloping them, and letting them envelope me, and enjoying them!

Wouldn't you know, after rain comes a bow, aimed to shoot straight up to where the heavens normally are, mislodged somewhere in the skies above us.
Well, after a fun, talus field-filled, reflective descent from Cannon Cliff and another 3 hours of driving and singing thereafter, I'm ready to make myself a frittata, hydrate, and go a-dreaming. 'Til next time! Maybe I'll give Whitney-Gilman a shot...!