Prologue

I'm planning to spend the next five or six months climbing. So I've been preparing for my trip: I purchased a fair bit of new climbing gear, and replaced all the nylon I had bought more than four years ago (Todd Skinner, a world-class climber, recently died due to a broken belay loop, reminding climbers to replace their nylon); I removed the rear seats from my car and put in a platform to sleep on; I bought health insurance and got electronic bill payments set up so that I could pay my bills on the road. However, I wasn't really ready when the chance came to go to Hueco Tanks with some climbing friends from Santa Fe. But it seemed like a good opportunity to test out a lot of my road trip systems in relatively benign environs, and with climbing partners I already knew. So on Monday, January 15, I bought $25 of food for the week, loaded up the car with everything I plan to take for many months of travel, and headed south on Interstate 25 with Wendy, a friend of a friend, as a passenger.

"Home"

Hueco Tanks State Historic Site is located just outside of El Paso, TX. A granitic intrusion unearthed by erosion, it has the locally unique feature of giant huecos (hollows) which retain water for weeks after a rainstorm. In the desert of Southern Texas, it provided a water source for plants and animals, Native Americans, and eventually European settlers. The park contains a massive collection of pictographs from the various Native American groups which have called the park a home over the last 2000 years; many of these same tribes consider Hueco Tanks sacred ground today.

The same inclusions that led to the creation of the large, water-holding huecos also created many smaller pockets in the area's boulders. Modern rock climbers have found these as ideal holds for hard, overhung routes and boulder problems. Access to Hueco Tanks was restricted for both climbers and other users in the 1990s due to overuse ruining both the fragile plant life and ancient pictographs. These restrictions include a ban on bolting inside the park (meaning that most modern climbing there is purely bouldering), guide access only to three of the four mountainous regions, and limits on the number of people allowed in the park at any time. Despite these restrictions, it remains a mecca for boulderers of all levels, with thousands of boulder problems to choose from.

We arrived at Hueco Tanks at 6:20 on Monday evening; unfortunately, the road closed at 6, so we had to drive off and spend a night at the nearby Hueco Rock Ranch, a campground targeted at the climbers that flock to the area. Upon stepping out of my car, an icy wind bit at my bare arms. After changing into warmer clothes and a fast dinner of Ramen, I settled into my car to sleep before 7:30. It was my first test of my platform system, and it passed, although some improvements remain to be made.

The next morning we entered the park and met Marci and Zach, friends from the Santa Fe climbing gym. The morning was cold, but we headed out to try some bouldering. I wore long underwear and an extra fleece layer, far warmer than a typical bouldering day for me, even when I lived in New England. But we were at Hueco, so we had to climb. The warm-ups hurt, my fingers aching from holding onto the cold rock and my toes from being compressed into tight climbing shoes. My new down booties (a birthday gift from my parents) helped my toes, but this was definitely not the nice warm Texas weather I had planned on. We spent the rest of the day at a few climbing spots working on overhung, large handhold problems. I particularly enjoyed Nobody Here Gets Out Alive, a V2 (see here and here for an explanation of climbing grades and the translation of bouldering grades on the V scale) that starts out as a roof on big holds and then transitions to a slab with decent-sized holds. The roof requires a lot of heel- and toe-hooking, using one's foot to hold you into the rock rather than just holding one's weight. I worked this problem for a little while and found a sequence that could get me through the roof, but pulling onto the slab eluded me. Zach gave a good try at See Spot Run, a steep face climb involving small holds and a tall boulder; he gave it a good go, but fell off over halfway up.

Although the afternoon warmed up a bit, I never took off my fleece or even wanted to; after such a cold day, we decided to go into town for a warm dinner and a cold beer. That night, I discovered my first big road trip lesson: heated restrooms are your friend. By about 6:30, it was getting too cold to hang outside, so I went to the restroom to brush my teeth and planned to crash. In the restroom, however, a couple of French-speaking climbers had set up a portable DVD player with a climbing movie. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and watched for about 45 minutes, laughing along with the French speakers and getting myself thoroughly warm for the first time in many hours. It's the kind of experience a person can have only when he leaves the comforts of home and takes the chance of being cold.

The next day we took a guided climbing tour over to East Mountain. We were accompanied by three Swiss, two guides, a Tennesseean and and Albuquerquean. I found this day hard as we spent most of the day on severely-overhaning problems. My abdominals failed several times throughout the day, and by the end of the day I couldn't climb a couple of easy boulder problems because I was too sore. However, it was a bit warmer than Tuesday, and I had one good climb where I sent a V2 my first try, so the day wasn't an entire loss. I spent less time in the bathroom on a slightly nicer evening, but still crashed early.

Zach on Hobbit in a Blender

Fred on Dragonfly

Day three promised to be the best in terms of weather according to the forecast, but the morning found us all sore and tired. Two days in a row of powerful bouldering leaves one with a lack of skin on his fingertips, abdominal muscles that ache when he laughs, and forearms that can no longer open a water bottle. But, we had to leave the next day, which was looking terrible in terms of weather anyway, so we headed out to get in one last day of bouldering. First stop was the Mushroom Boulder for warmups and work on a thin, technical V2. To get rid of the soreness I stretched for a while longer than the others, and in the meantime Zach and Wendy started working on a left-facing rail, which I identified as Mushroom Tea, V4, in the guide. When I had finally finished stretching and warmed up, I joined them on it, and it felt good. It even felt like I might get it today. I decided to take a rest and watched Marci and Wendy work on Local Flakes, a steep face with very small holds. The cold made the small holds even more painful than normal, so they got tired of that rather quickly (I gave it a couple of tries myself, and it hurt).

Back on Mushroom Tea I gave a good try but had a rough time figuring out the top. Zach suggested I switch hands, and trying that from the middle of the route worked well. I sat down and relaxed, waiting to make sure I was fresh and focused when I tried to send the route. Marci worked on it a little while, eventually finding a drop-knee that worked for her at the top. Finally, I was ready. It wasn't the prettiest ascent ever, but it was the first time I ever sent V4 in a single day; something to be proud of.

The rest of the day was nice; I attempted Nobody Here Gets Out Alive many more times but still couldn't pull on to the slab; Zach put in a good try on See Spot Run and took a good fall. We decided to head back to Santa Fe that evening as the weather was calling for snow starting Thursday evening and calling it a "major impact event." I arrived home sore and tired, but happy after three days of fun climbing with good friends. And, even better, the promise of more once I finish up a few things in Santa Fe.