Black Diamond video of Fight the Feeling

The video of my 8c+/9a from last autumn ‘Fight the Feeling at Steall is now up on the Black Diamond digital catalogue here. It’s on page 9. While you are there you should check out some of the other videos and articles from fellow BD climbers. There are pretty damn good. My favourite has to be The Wheel of Life footage of James Kassay. Would LOVE to go there sometime soon.

Millbrook: Westward Ha! (5.7) & Cruise Control (5.9)

(Photo: Just above the final crux of Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)
Millbrook is a cliff with a fearsome reputation.
Unlike the other large cliffs at the Gunks, Millbrook has no easy access. A hike of at least three miles is required to approach the cliff. Once there, you have to rap in from above to get to the climbs. All of the climbs start from a narrow, sloping shelf popularly known as the "Death Ledge." Above this Death Ledge is a rotten band of rock; many of the climbing routes negotiate crumbly, loose territory for the first thirty to forty feet. And even if you survive the rotten band, you aren't out of the woods. The climbs at Millbrook are steep, difficult, and often poorly protected. 5.11 X is a common rating at Millbrook.
This is a serious cliff. You need to have a good idea of your limits before you go there. When you climb at Millbrook, you will likely be climbing alone. If something goes wrong, help is going to be hard to come by.
Does this sound like fun to you?
And yet the cliff has very attractive qualities as well. For starters, it is the highest, whitest, most impressive cliff at the Gunks. You might not notice it so much from New Paltz but if you spend any time in the area to the south, in Gardiner, for example, you can't help but feel its presence. We've rented a house on Bruynswick Road, which parallels the ridge, and every time I've driven down to this house from the north, following the road past all the major cliffs, I've been struck by how Millbrook looms over the area in the most appealing and inviting way. It is a beautiful, solemn place.
And there are great climbs at Millbrook. Not just hard man test-pieces (of which there are many), but also great moderates (or so I've been told). The introductory Millbrook route, right at the center of the cliff (next to the rappel tree), is Westward Ha!, a climb some consider to be the best 5.7 in the Gunks. Just to the right of Westward Ha! is a classic 5.9 called Cruise Control. Another reputed classic 5.9, Realm of the Fifth Class Climber, is down at the southern end of the cliff. And there are more, a handful of 5.7 to 5.9 climbs that I hear are well-protected and well worth doing, along with several world-class 5.10's and 5.11's that have reasonable pro.
Above all, Millbrook offers solitude, mystery, and the unknown, things which are in short supply at the other major cliffs at the Gunks. Millbrook provides a chance to get away from the same crowded routes you did yesterday and to step into what feels like a real alpine adventure.
Until this past weekend I'd never been climbing at Millbrook. I've been really wanting to go lately, intrigued by Christian Fracchia's website The White Cliff, which has wonderfully detailed topo photos of the whole cliff, along with updated route information that is more precise than what you'll find in any of the official guidebooks. I contacted Chris when I started thinking about climbing at Millbrook, and he gave me great advice about potential routes to climb and how best to reach them.
This past Sunday seemed like a good day to go. Clear skies and cool temperatures made for perfect conditions for hiking out to the cliff. Gail was willing to troop out there with me. I hoped we could knock off the two most obvious candidates, Westward Ha! (5.7) and Cruise Control (5.9), and still have time to maybe hit another moderate like The High Traverse (5.8 with the variation finish) or Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9), mentioned above.

(Photo: On the trail to Millbrook, with Skytop visible in the distance.)
Dick Williams suggests in his guidebook that the hike out to Millbrook will take about an hour. For us the trip was uneventful but it took longer than that. We were slowed a bit by a lot of wetness on the trail, which I guess was a remnant of some heavy rain that fell a few nights before. The hike is perfectly pleasant, and I bet it is quite beautiful in late May/early June when the mountain laurel is in bloom.

(Photo: The rap tree is dead, Fred! What do we do now?)
Once we dead-ended into the Millbrook Mountain Trail and followed it to the cliff's edge, we had no trouble winding our way down to find the traditional rappel tree atop Westward Ha! Unfortunately, however, this tree is 100 percent deceased, as in dead, i.e. finished. This was a shock to us because everyone apparently still uses the dead tree! I don't know how long it has been this way but man, it is over and has been for a while. The tree is a black hulk. We briefly considered using it anyway, since it is such a huge tree, and it is unlikely to fail under body weight for quite a while. But it gave me the willies. I did not feel good about the idea of using it.
Looking around, we saw other rappel options, so it was easy for us not to use the dead tree. We found two trees that were decent-sized and very much alive, about 30 or 40 feet left (south) of the Westward Ha! rappel. These trees are also maybe 20 or 30 feet higher than the dead tree, but I was confident my 60 meter rope would still reach the Death Ledge, since I knew the rap from the dead tree was only 150-160 feet to the ledge.

(Photo: Rapping over the steepness that is Millbrook.)
I leaned out over the lip from our improvised rappel station to check the rap; it appeared to be a sheer drop to the ledge. It did not seem that there were any obstacles and I was more or less certain that the rope would reach. I also felt entirely sure that we would have no trouble climbing a 5.7 route to get off of the cliff. We would not be trapped down there. Still, I felt very nervous. It took a leap of faith to back my ass off the cliff and descend into the unknown. But this whole adventure was my idea, so I had to be the first one to go. I set up my rappel and off I went.

(Photo: The obvious corner of Westward Ha! (5.7).)
Once we both got down without incident, it was very easy to find the prominent corner ascended by Westward Ha! (5.7). And although the Death Ledge wasn't huge, the shelf was flat and wide enough at this part of the cliff for us to move around without fear that we were about to slip off of it and tumble to the talus some 70 or 80 feet below. (Nevertheless we stayed anchored while on the ledge.)

(Photo: Getting started on Westward Ha! (5.7).)
I had read that you could take any of several independent little lines up the first forty feet of the route to reach the prominent corner system. I could see that the path on the left looked the easiest, ascending blocky flakes all the way to the corner. But I guessed that this collection of flakes also contained a bunch of loose crap, giving this part of the route its reputation for bad rock. So I decided to go to the right, up a line that appeared to have obvious holds and solid rock, leading to a leftward traverse to the big corner.

(Photo: Gail coming up the right-hand start to Westward Ha!, which has nice climbing, good rock, and pretty good pro.)
I thought this part of the route had decent climbing, though the final moves left to the ledge seemed a bit thin to me for 5.7 and required the use of a fragile crimper hold. If this crimp breaks off, I think this start will be much harder than 5.7 in the future. Once I reached the tree at the base of the big corner I decided to stop and belay Gail from there. The short first pitch would cut down on drag and allow us to do the whole rest of the climb in one pitch. Gail agreed that the right hand start was a little stiff for 5.7.

(Photo: In the final moves up the pretty white face at the top of Westward Ha! (5.7).)
We found the rest of Westward Ha! to be superb. The corner is sustained, with one fine move after another. A crack goes up the back of the corner for most of the way, so pro is frequently available, and you can jam if you wish, although there are plenty of edges so it isn't necessary.
From the top of the corner you emerge at the crux of the route, thin moves up an attractive white face. Again the pro is there and the moves are great, and then before you know it you're at the top.
Westward Ha! is a very very nice 5.7. I would not call it the best 5.7 in the Gunks, because to me it lacks the mind-blowing standout moments that you'll find on the very best climbs, like, say, Thin Slabs Direct or CCK. Westward Ha! doesn't really have any one outstanding moment or section, though the whole thing is quite good. I enjoyed it immensely and thought it was well worth the walk. And I would do it again the same way, with the short pitch at the bottom, followed by a longer pitch with all of the great climbing in it.
Back on top of the cliff, it was already late for lunch. We had a bite and then rapped back down to check out Cruise Control (5.9). Like Westward Ha!, this climb is easy to find. If you continue walking right (north) just a short distance from Westward Ha!, maybe thirty feet or so, stepping over a boulder that is resting against the cliff face, you will quickly come to a spot below a small, left-facing corner in orange rock that leads up to a groove/shallow open book. The open book then trends up and right to a roof. This is Cruise Control.
It looked good to me. I had wondered earlier in the day if, when push came to shove, I would feel up to a 5.9 on Millbrook. Before we started Westward Ha!, I was so nervous, worrying about how the rock would feel, and about whether we were really equipped to deal with the climbing at this cliff. I did not want us to exceed our limits. But once we completed Westward Ha! these concerns melted away. The rock felt fine. The climbing was familiar. I knew I could handle leading a Gunks 5.9, and Cruise Control was supposed to be on the easy side of the grade. This was going to be no problem.
The first pitch was a great pleasure. The moves up the initial corner are nice, and the rock quality through the rotten band seemed fine to me. I can't remember any terrible looseness. Then the crux climbing comes at a technical sequence up the shallow open book. The left side of the book forms a beautiful layback flake with solid pro. By the time I was through this sequence I was already telling Gail how wonderful the pitch was, and I hadn't even reached the roof.
The overhang adds another cool dimension to the pitch. It is a solid 5.8+/5.9- affair, again with great gear. After you pull over it the pitch romps up easy territory to a pedestal where there are good cracks for a gear anchor. (You could also continue to the next shelf.)

(Photo: Pulling over the roof on pitch one of Cruise Control (5.9).)
As I prepared for pitch two, I thought the real business of the climb was over. The second pitch is 5.8, and I assumed the groove and roof on pitch one were the main attractions of the climb. I didn't expect much out of the second pitch.
Boy was I wrong. The second pitch of Cruise Control is amazing.
It starts up the obvious right-facing corner that rises above the belay ledge. But after 20 or 30 feet you need to traverse around the corner to the left and onto the face of the cliff. I placed a good nut while still in the corner but felt obligated to sling it really long to avoid the prospect of horrendous drag.
Peering around the corner, I could see good little footholds. But I was blind as to the hands, and the face above looked blank. Would there be any placements out there? Dick Williams rates this pitch as 5.8 G. That would seem to indicate that there must be pro out there, right?
Making the commitment and stepping out onto the face was spectacular. I found myself on a gorgeous white billboard beneath a small ceiling. The rock was solid and I could see the path up and left. The climbing here was easier than 5.8.
But there wasn't any pro. I spied a wide horizontal at the top of the billboard, at the overlap. I hoped my largest cam, a big blue Camalot, would fit. I moved up, easy does it, one exquisite move and then another. Staying focused. By the time I reached the overlap I was surely well into R-rated territory. A fall at that point would have been a long, sideways, swinging affair.
I tried to place the blue Camalot. It was tipped-out and biting into mud in the crack. Not good at all.
What to do? Maybe the blue cam would fit better if I moved it further to the left, off-line?
Looking around, I realized I'd fallen victim to tunnel vision. There was a vertical crack system just above me running upward, the continuation of the route. But in my fixation on the wide horizontal crack I hadn't even seen it. I could get a great cam or nut right over my head. I threw a yellow Alien in the vertical crack and exhaled.
Everything was going to be fine.

(Photo: Topping out on Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)
Just then, as I breathed a sigh of relief and looked upward, I saw a human head peek out from the top of the cliff.
"Chris, is that you?"
It was! I had told Fracchia I was headed out to Millbrook and he showed up (with his sheepdog) to see how I liked it and to snap a few photos.
While he got set up to shoot I climbed through the physical crux of the pitch, up the fun crack system through another overlap and on to the top. As I finished the climb Chris got the nice photos you see here. Then we hung out and chatted while Gail climbed the pitch. When she topped out she too was thrilled with the awesomeness of the second pitch of Cruise Control.
I think Cruise Control is one of the best moderate climbs in the Gunks. The first pitch is great, and the second is stupendous. If you are cool with the 5.9 climbing on pitch one then the runout on pitch two through easier territory shouldn't bother you too much. But I do think Dick's 5.8 G rating for the second pitch is misleading. It should be something like 5.8 G (5.6+ R).
When we finished Cruise Control it was already mid-afternoon and we figured that including time spent packing up and walking, it would be at least another hour and a half before we'd reach the car. We thought about trying to do one more pitch but decided to call it a day instead. This turned out to be the right call, as I was really drooping by the time we finished the hike back to civilization. After four pitches of climbing and three hours of hiking I was exhausted. Gail was still hiking strong. I could barely keep up with her. I need to toughen up, I think.
I was so satisfied with the climbing we did at Millbrook. Getting to the cliff may be inconvenient, but the isolation gives the place a special atmosphere and a solitude you just can't get at the other cliffs. On this beautiful Sunday, while the other cliffs were surely overrun with gumbies (and I mean no offense to all of you gumbies out there), Gail and I were the only people climbing at Millbrook all day.
I hope it doesn't take me a year or more to go back.There are several other climbs I'm dying to try. Maybe I've got the Millbrook bug.

Art and Simplicity

I took these photos this past weekend at my parents' house in East Tennessee. There are two spiders somewhere in the five photos. Can you find them?



"When the light fell, like a wash of truth, every corner that held obscurity also held the potential for beauty." Deborah DeWit Marchant in Traveling Light, A Photographer's Journey
I'm rereading this book for inspiration. Mrs. Marchant's photos are so much like my own. Our writing is very different, though. Her prose is very poetical and sometimes difficult to understand. I'm tempted to say, "Just say it in plain English!" I really don't like to try and wade through words. It frustrates me. I like forthrightness and simplicity in writing; except for Pat Conroy. He's absolutely hypnotic.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't like pretentious writing. It especially irritates me in an artist bio. You know when you go to an art exhibition and you read what the artist says about his/her art. Sometimes I think you need a doctorate just to understand what they're saying. I think they believe that the more obtuse they are the better. It's so annoying.
When I wrote my artist statement, I tried to keep it simple and understandable. I didn't start out this post with the intention of posting my artist bio, but I think I will. Do you think it's understandable? Is it too simple?

THE ART BIO

OF

DEBBIE BAILEY

Having grown up in the mountains of East Tennessee, I have a heightened awareness of the beauty of the great outdoors. I’ve always been happiest listening to wind whispering through the pines or lying in a field watching clouds float by. As a photographer, I now capture those pieces of the everyday and hold them as images of things remembered and cherished. If you look at one of my photographs, smile, and say, “I know that place…” or “That reminds me of…” then I’ve done a good thing.

Since early childhood I’ve been interested in many different art forms; especially music and photography. I’m proficient in piano but mainly piddle around with the lap dulcimer, recorder, and guitar. The hammered dulcimer is next on my list of things to try.

I became passionate about photography after a trip to Italy in .. with one of my sons. Since then I’ve tried different photographic techniques such as handtinting with translucent oil paints on black and white photos, copying my photos onto watercolor paper and painting over them, bleaching them, using many different film speeds to see what will happen, taking Polaroids with a 1970’s camera and then manipulating the images using different instruments while the emulsion is still wet, and attaching a photo to the back of an antique mirror after some of the silvering has been removed.

I believe in THE CREATOR who made all from nothing. I also believe all people feel the need to express their uniqueness in some way. As image-bearers of God, we can only re-create what is His. I want my art to show the goodness and beauty of creation. I affirm with the Psalmist David who said, “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows his handiwork.”

Never content to do the same thing day after day, my art is always changing into something hopefully better. And just like life, that requires patience and perseverance. So I keep pushing onward and hope that my art will bless you as we go along.

Spongy black fungus

What the heck is that thing?

I don't know, but it sure looks weird.

Back home at the computer, it's Tom Volk to the rescue again.
This is a specialized type of Sooty mold, Scorias spongiosa, that appears only on Beech trees.
Here's another page about it.
I first learned about sooty mold when I took the Master Gardener course. Certain plant-sucking insects excrete honeydew, a delightful name for what really amounts to sugary poop. The sooty mold lives off of it, and that's the black stuff you see on leaves (and other things).
I hadn't realized they came in such specialized varieties, though.

UnBRAKEable

Earlier this year, just before my New Zealand tour, I noted some wear on the brake pads on my bike. I considered replacing them, but decided against it at the time, figuring that if I really got into trouble I could probably replace them while I was in New Zealand. That was well over 16,000km ago. I still haven't replaced them -- and they are still working just as well as the day I bought them. Yesterday they did the job on a 22%, 83km/h descent, at the bottom of which some wizard or road planning decided to put a sharp right-hand corner. It wasn't even a problem.
The only problem is that the brand name has long since disappeared from them, and I can't remember what it actually is. On the other hand, if current trends continue, I'm likely to have a while yet to figure it out.

About me

me



Claire MacLeodThanks for coming to have a look at my site. I’m Dave, I’m a climber from Scotland and I live in Letterfinlay in the Scottish highlands with my wife Claire and my cat Puss Puss. This is my blog about my climbing, my life and my work. My work these days is climbing, writing, coaching, lecturing and making films.I started climbing when I was 15 and climbed most of the hard rock and winter climbs in Scotland. For the last decade I’ve been making first ascents of as hard routes as possible in most climbing disciplines but especially trad, bouldering, sport climbing and winter climbing. My route Rhapsody was the first E11 graded climb in the world. My hardest climbs, Echo Wall (E11) and Anubis (XII) could be among the hardest summer and winter trad climbs in the world. I’ve also climbed 9a in sport climbing, V13/14 in bouldering and onsighted E7.People in the wider world of climbing tend to hear about my climbing through the well known films E11 or Echo Wall or my book 9 out of 10 climbers make the same mistakes.

The Last Messy Place

Well, I've done it. I've gotten rid of ALL superfluous papers in the house. All that's left to organize is my writing desk. And that'll be fun.
I feel like such a weight has been lifted off me. I hate paper clutter with a vengeance. We get so much junk mail. It seems that I'm on everybody's mailing list for catalogs and religious fundraising. I'm thinking about not opening the letters and marking RETURN TO SENDER on the outside of the envelopes. Would that take care of the problem, do you think?
Now I can start on some of my big projects, but first I had to get through the slog of paper. I've spent the last two weeks making schedules and planning Darcie's schoolwork. I'm almost finished with that, and then I can begin painting the kitchen.
Every ten years I repaint the kitchen. When we built the house the kitchen walls were white with green trim. After ten years, I painted the trim blue. Another ten years have gone by, and I've decided to paint the walls yellow and the trim white. I painted one wall and have been living with it for about two months. I don't like it. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I'm thinking about going back to white walls and paint the trim white, too; or maybe light blue.
My kitchen is a combination 1920's-1940's kitchen. I think I need to go to the library and look at books with vintage kitchens. I need inspiration. When I see it, I'll know it.

Creativity

Me attempting to watercolor at the John C. Campbell Folk School, and the week long results of the class. Mine are at the lower right hand corner.

To be artistically creative and to enter into the creativity of others is to exercise the image of God in one's self.

Aurora Avenue

Last night before going to bed, I looked at the spaceweather.com website just in case there were any reports of aurora activity. As luck would have it, an interplanetary shockwave had just arrived and was sparking aurora activity. The source of the shockwave was unknown, but researchers say it could have originated in a transition zone between high and low speed solar wind streams. The shockwave ended up generating nearly 15 hours of geomagnetic storming. I took this photo directly in front of our house at 11:30 PM. Just minutes after making this photo the clouds moved in and almost completely obscured the view of the lights. I spent the next 4 hours searching for openings in the clouds and ended up finding a few here and there.

Playing Catch-Up

It was a wet, drizzly and muddy day today - what better way to celebrate the muck than to invite a new pal into the arena: 7 month old MacKenzie, a red/yellow lab who Avalon adored!
And here's a movie
of my sis and I playin' with the new girl-pal!
Next up... I actually got to visit my totally pawesome brother, Jamie a couple of weeks ago. I absolutely adored playing with him and will always look up to him... well - he's waaaaaay bigger than moi!
And a week before that, you would not have believe how cold it got. Well... unless Momma took a pitchur of the hail that came down among all the pretty cherry tree blossoms!
And this might help explain why we've been so MIA. Avalon and me has been working ever so hard on our obedience routines, practicing three times a week and visiting our teach, Barbara and oh... gots a headache thinking about it all!!! But about a month ago, I did manage to earn my second leg of Open A (whoopee!). Next week, I'll be trying for my final leg - imagine... a CDX! Woo hoo... let's hope I can remember all the things I supposed to be doing! Will keep in touch!

Taxi outing

In June each year the Edinburgh taxi trade runs an outing from the city for what are termed 'vulnerable' or 'disadvantaged' children, including disabled children. This year the outing included visiting children from Chernobyl. A huge fleet of decorated black cabs travels in convoy from the city to the beach at Dirleton, on the East Lothian coast. The taxi in the shot above is rather low key, but it was out and about very early. I hoped to see more extravagant decorations on the remainder of my 40 minute walk to work, but I must have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Part of me wonders about the whole singling out of children as 'disadvantaged' in this way, but there's no doubt that the event is still going strong after 63 years. It reminds me of the annual outing that my father enjoyed at primary school in a tiny village on Speyside in the 1930s and still talks about today. The entire 2 room school was taken by steam train from Craigellachie (yes, the original of the Canadian Pacific Railway version) to Lossiemouth on the Moray Firth Coast, a journey of 17 miles. On arrival they were treated to lemonade and buns. They then walked to the wide, sandy beach backed by dunes, and played until lunchtime. I don't imagine any of the children owned a swimming costume - it would have been frocks tucked into knickers for the girls, and school shorts for the boys. The school then walked back into town, where they had lunch that still makes my father misty-eyed: soup, mince and tatties and ice cream. Then back to the beach for games of cricket and races, before taking the train back up into the hills. All this was organised and paid for by a wealthy lady landowner, and for most of the children it was the only time in the year they went beyond a 2 or 3 mile radius of the village.

How to become a better paddler

No matter what your passion, there's a point at which you're likely to plateau. That may be OK; perhaps you've become proficient enough to accomplish everything you desire. But for those who are dedicated to continued improvement and have ambitions as coaches, expeditioners or higher-level paddlers, plateaus aren't acceptable. We aren't content to see our skills and knowledge top out. We want to become better paddlers.

Leon practicing rescue maneuvers.

While we were on Orcas Island with Shawna Franklin and Leon Somme, we talked aboutthe path to becoming an expert. It is, to paraphrase them, a function of hard work, deliberate practice, and guidance from a coach who offers constructive, honest feedback.

They shared with us an 2007 article from the Harvard Business Review, "The Making of an Expert" by K. Anders Ericsson, Michael J. Prietula and Edward T. Cokely, which summarizes research supporting the idea that outstanding performance is not so much a function of innate talent as it is a product of methodical, challenging practice and thoughtful, critical coaching.

Shawna challenges herself by surfing a wave while sitting on her deck.

For higher-level coaches like Shawna and Leon, this means finding hard things to work on and seeking out mentors who point out their weaknesses, even when that type of feedback is uncomfortable. The same is true for all of us, no matter what our level. We'd often prefer to keep working on the skills we already have and hear others affirm our accomplishments. But that's not the path to improvement.

While we were at Deception Pass, we saw this approach in action. After allowing us to warm on an eddy line, they suggested we try increasingly challenging moves as we crossed over into the current: edging without bracing, exiting with a cross-deck rudder, returning to the eddy as quickly as possible, rolling and static bracing on the eddy line, and self and assisted rescues in the current and whirlpools. They gave different challenges to each of us, ratcheting up the difficulty as we demonstrated we were ready for more.

Seth exits an eddy with a cross-deck rudder.

According to Ericcson, Prietula and Cokely:

• "Deliberate practice involves two kinds of learning: improving the skills you already have an improving the reach and range of your skills."


• "Genuine experts not only practice deliberately, but they also think deliberately...they continuously work to eliminate their weaknesses."


• "The development of expertise requires coaches who are capable of giving constructive, even painful feedback.Real experts are extremely motivated students who seek out such feedback."

This is true for becoming a more skillful and knowledgeable paddler as well as becoming a better coach or guide. Improvement is less a matter of innate ability than it is about willingness to work hard, seek challenges, and accept and act on knowledgeable critiques.

Alec and Sharon practicing deliberately.

"Before practice, opportunity, and luck can combine to create expertise, the would-be expert needs to demythologize the achievement of top-level performance because the notion that genius is born, not made, is deeply ingrained." --Ericcson, Prietula and Cokely