Climacterical Climber's Column: "Felipe, I dropped my ATC!"

Last weekend I was climbing at Seneca Rocks with Felipe Trevizan. The weather was gorgeous: a cool, 41 degrees, blue skies, sunshine, leafs turning yellow. As we hiked up the East Face trail it became obvious that, owing to the low temperatures, everybody had decided to start the day on the East Face. Felipe and I had planned to get onto Conn's East, but three parties, with a total of 9 climbers, were ahead of us. 

We abandoned our original plan in favor of doing some exploring. I had always wanted to find one of the 5.5s that get you into the Gunsight Notch from the East Face. We scouted around, checked rock features against Tony Barnes’ guidebook, and convinced ourselves that we had located Eeyore's Tail. Off Felipe went to onsight it. 

This climb, however, quickly turned into somewhat of an epic. The guidebook mentions that you need large gear, and, thanks to a loaner piece from Toni Price that we had taken with us to do Thais Direct later in the day, we did rack two #4 cams. But what the book neglects to point out is that what you really need is truly humongous gear, like some Big Bros. Felipe got the offwidth done with nearly no pro, and a lot of soul searching and moxie. He anchored to a good-looking tree on a ledge, and decided to bring me up to deliberate further route finding. Seneca, you know…

This is when it happened. When I took Felipe off belay, I &@#^%#! dropped my ATC.

I was surprised followed by fuming mad on the inside, unbelieving of my clumsiness. But this was a beautiful day and I didn’t want to spoil it. “Not to worry,” I thought to myself, “this is the reason why I carry a backup ATC.” So, I made no fuss and joyfully seconded up the first pitch to meet Felipe.

It was not clear where pitch 2 was meant to be, although I thought that I could see the rap tree in the Gunsight through a hole in the flake behind our anchor tree. After first climbing up a 10-foot-long crack in that flake to look over it, then downclimbing it, abandoning that path in favor of an exposed traverse, and then peeking around the south end of the flake, Felipe announced that he could identify a possible path into the Gunsight. It would require him to build a gear anchor, me to traverse over to him, pass him and the anchor, tiptoe around the corner of the flake, then downclimb into the Gunsight. This day was rapidly turning into our day of “first descents.” But as Felipe pointed out, we do it all is our club motto after all.

We got all of that up-, around-, and down climbing done, and met up at the rap tree in the Gunsight Notch. Felipe abseiled first, and then it was my turn to descend over Debbie and Banana to resume the afternoon’s climbing on the now sunny West Face. I carefully and very deliberately took my backup belay device off my harness, thinking, “I won’t drop you!” I started to squeeze the two strands of rope, fumbled, and promptly let my backup ATC fall from my unbelieving hands.

It was later reported back to me at The Gendarme that climbers heard a seemingly very cheerful Regina shout, “Felipe, I dropped my ATC!”

Why was I so happy sounding in the face of that calamity? Well, I had just dropped not one, but two ATCs in one day. I’ll have you know that this is the first time that I have ever dropped any gear. When it happened I just couldn't believe that I did something this stupid. What other's thought of as my cheerful voice was actually my ding-dong-I-can't-believe-I-did-that voice of despair.

Dropping gear. What a disaster for a trad climber. But wait, that's not all. Lately, I have noticed how much more I am dropping things around the house! I throw my coat on a chair, it slides all the way down to the floor. I put my keys on the stand by the door, klunk, down they go to same floor. Reading glasses slipping off my nose, books slithering floorward off my lap, mail jumping out of my hands spilling in the entrance, clink-boing-splat, what else did I drop lately? Oh, an ATC or two?

Is there some well known “dropping disease” that begets the aging climber?

A google search on “dropping things” yields a surprising number of pages. Apparently, a great many people are troubled and feel klutzy because they are dropping things more and more often. A sufferer called Tom writes “I sometimes involuntarily drop things. This is beginning to happen more frequently.” And on another site, a woman shares, “I' m always dropping things. My neighbor recently had a baby. I hoped she was not going to ask me did I want to hold the baby. I was so relieved when she didn't, I was so afraid I might drop him.” Sadly, many of the “dropping things” threads point to diseases, such as Multiple Sclerosis, and Lou Gehrig's Disease, for which this is one symptom.

But “dropping things” is also an affliction of the aging. Elizabeth Bergner Hurlock's book on “Developmental Psychology” mentions awkwardness as one of the common changes in motor abilities in old age. Accordingly, old people become clumsy, which causes them to spill and drop things. Many studies have demonstrated that reaction time and motor speed slow progressively with advancing age. In the neuroscience literature, brain aging and functional declines are often considered synonymous.

Am I the only aging climber who suffers from dropping gear more frequently? I think not. Ack Kearns, owner of The Gendarme who looks to be around about my age, tried to console me by saying, “You climb long enough – you will eventually drop an ATC.” I mentioned my mishap in an email to Phil Hodge who was climbing at Seneca that same weekend and has over a decade on me. He wrote back, “Dropping your belay device is more like frozen fingers than getting older, even if it had warmed up by then; just on principle it can't be due to getting older!” There you have it.

If you wonder how I got down from the Gunsight without my ATC, and in keeping with the day’s theme of “first descents,” at Felipe’s suggestion I rappelled for the first time with the Munter hitch on my HMS carabiner backed up with an autoblock. Massey Teel, the Seneca Rocks Climbing School guide who had spread the story of my cheerful drop-loss at The Gendarme, later that evening showed me how to do a carabiner break, just in case I am experiencing a little clumsiness again. Realizing that the carabiner break requires five carabiners, it may just be beyond my menopausal mental and motor might.

Climb on! 

Regina

Sport Climbing

A poem

Inspired by Rick and Liz Weber

Baby baby beckoning bolt
Beckoning bolt there is no hold
Baby baby beckoning bolt
Clipped the bolt , feeling old

Why do I not want to die
Want to die when I climb high
Why can I not trust the pro
Trust the pro , experience flow

Fate can slice the rope in two
Objective hazards that is true
When the 'biner is worn through
On a project puppies do

Immortality's for the young
While to life old climbers clung
Falling , falling never good
But when you lived you understood

Baby baby beckoning bolt
Good as gold ? Oversold
Probabilities you should fear
And when you die we split your gear

Climacterical Climber's Column: Age can be a powerful motivator.

Things have been progressing since “Climb with your readers.” South-western Pennsylvania had a fabulous ice season. I got out on about at dozen occasions; and I finally toproped a grade WI4 route which I’d been attempting for several years without resting on the rope. Progress indeed!

Ice is a hard medium. When really cold, it feels as hard as rock. And it is also very three dimensional in structure, more so than rock climbs. Ice climbing involves kicking forward with your feet with a good amount of force and momentum. This engages with the ice the front points of your crampons that are attached to your mountaineering boots.

In the process of kicking to plant my feet, I seem to infallibly and unavoidably hit my knees somewhere on the ice. Thus, after every day on the ice, I usually come home with both of my knees covered in deep blue bruises. Over the course of the week the bruises blossom into purple, green, than a putrid yellow. Yet when the next weekend comes around I do it all over again, and acquire bruises which cover the patchwork of the previous ones.

The weird thing this season was that the swelling and associated pain never went away. As a matter of fact, I feel it deep inside my knees, as though it has affected my very bones. In years past, pain and soreness have always peaked about 48 hours after a hard day’s climbing. This year, the pain has simply stayed, and stayed, and stayed, and is still with me now. I had heard many of my elder climbing friends complain about their knees hurting. They’ve also bitched about the long recovery times between climbing sessions. Is this what that is? Is it starting to happen to me now?

Easter came around, and, still hurting, I joined fellow ECP climbers for a trip to Stone Mountain in North Carolina.

One of my goals since last season has been to establish myself as a 5.6 trad leader. While this grade is so very easy that even a novice can usually climb it on a toprope, it is another story entirely to lead in this grade on gear. Stone Mountain features a three-pitch 5.5, “The Great Arch,” a line that is widely acknowledged as a classic. Dr. Bob, who was not able to join us, had indoctrinated me that I really needed to lead The Great Arch on this trip, it being well within the range of what I’m capable of leading, although it would be on a different kind of rock that I might first have to get accustomed to. He made it clear, however, that I should not come back from Stone without chalking up The Great Arch on lead. Pressure was definitely on.

The Great Arch is the C-shaped climb on the left. The climb on the right is No Alternative; there is a climber on the first pitch, dwarfed by the scale of Stone Mountain.

To make sure I wouldn’t back off by rational and irrational fears, both of which started to worm their way into my mind as soon as I tried to commit myself to leading this climb, I started to talk about my plan to lead The Great Arch in the climbing gym. Many climbers heard me, and offered advice. Now there would be no turning back for me for sure. Good. More peer pressure.

On the day we departed for North Carolina, I called my mom in Germany to let her know I’d be out of touch for a couple of days. My parents are getting to be of that age when health, mobility and independence are becoming a serious concern. Dad was in the hospital followed by a short-term care facility for a few weeks in February and March. Providing for him upon his return home has been a huge issue for my mom, my siblings, and I.

As if I wasn’t already worried enough, my mom asked me to be careful on my upcoming climbing trip. I felt very disturbed, since she had never voiced concerns about my climbing before. How had she gotten wind that I was afraid of leading The Great Arch?!

I felt guilty, and charged right ahead in my defense, by telling her that climbing was really much, much safer than bearing children (something she treasures and I have avoided), and indeed, safer also even than driving a car. She didn’t take the child-bearing bait, which is usually a good diversion because it gets us into having a familiar fight. But she firmly disagreed with me on the driving issue, and any statistic I might quote in this regard, proclaiming instead that climbing surely is more dangerous than driving a car in a country with such low speed limits as the US (Germany still has many stretches of highway with no speed limits). Our conversation worried me, and I was beginning to wonder if I was, indeed, behaving selfishly and irresponsibly. Just what I needed. Family pressure, too. Great.

The one problem with The Great Arch is that is doesn’t start from the ground up. One must first climb another pitch to the “tree ledge.” On Good Friday, Ron led “Entrance Crack,” and I seconded. Well, I tried. The climb, rated a mere 5.4, almost defeated me. I barely made it to the tree ledge. What was wrong with me? Was it the rock? Was it my head? Was I trying to find a way to let myself out of leading The Great Arch?

Well, after the experience on Entrance Crack, I was in no shape whatsoever to tackle The Great Arch. I canned the project for that day. I saw other people climb it; and I even toproped the first pitch. All the while the little voices in my head were having a ball. “You should do it.” “No, it’s too hard.” “It’s only a 5.5; you want to be a 5.6 leader?! Go do it already.” “It’s OK to have a future in topropeing low grades; don’t injure yourself and by all means, stay alive! You have responsibilities to your family.”

The dialogue went on and on. How could I possibly make a decision one way or another?

Easter Saturday came, and I looked at Stone Mountain with fresh eyes. I took stock. I reminded myself that I am 51. Yes, my body is hurting, and chances are, this is a new stage in my life when it always will. And my climbing will likely suffer as a result. But if I do not do this today, when, then, will I be returning to Stone Mountain to lead The Great Arch? Next year, during the ECP’s next Easter trip? Even if I’m fortunate enough to again be on the trip next year, I will then be 52. What are the chances that I will be stronger? Will I really do it then if I’m not doing it now?

I did lead The Great Arch, facing my fears, the biggest of which this Easter being the passage of time.

Such is age as a motivator. Whatever it is you want to do, do it now! Who knows where you’ll be tomorrow, or the next day, or even in a year’s time.

Climb on!

Regina.

Climacterical Climber's Column

This is the first installment of a column I have just started to write for the "Explorer," the Newsletter of the Explorers Club of Pittsburgh. I  figure, writing is like everything else, practice makes perfect. So I hope writing a regular column about aging and climbing will help me write a better aging climber book.
__________________________________________________

Climb with your readers?

Hi! I am 51 years old, and I am an aging climber. Lately, I have recognized some changes to my body and to my mind, or should I say sanity, which are definitely age related; and I am grappling with the effects, real or imagined, they are having on my climbing.

Take for instance my eyesight. It has always been fantastic, as you’d expect from an astronomer who makes her livelihood looking at distant stars and galaxies. With modern science requiring less and less of my physical presence at the telescope, these days, though, the way I look, or rather, squint, at the sky’s secrets, is on a computer screen. Indeed, it’s not the things that are far away which give me viewing trouble. It’s rather the things right in front of my eyes. To be more precise, all objects which are within about arms length from my peepers now require me to study them with, sigh, reading glasses.

My dependence on reading glasses was a slow and creeping process which started about 9 years ago. This happens to be about the same length of time that I’ve been climbing. First, I needed my glasses just occasionally. There were months when life was quieter, the job less stressful, and I didn’t use them at all. But as the years went by, I reached for them more and more frequently. When I misplaced one pair and bought another one, the diopters increased.

Over that same time period that my eyesight waned, my climbing got better and better. I went through the usual stages, from gym rat, to outdoor newbie, to trad leader. I am now toproping harder grades than I did a decade ago, and this past season I led my first 5.10a sport route. You know what that means – the holds have been getting smaller!

As I anticipate the 2010 rock season, I am actually beginning to worry about my vision. How can I possibly improve my climbing if I cant’ see the holds anymore? Should I be climbing with my readers on? How uncool is that! Would it even be practical?

In the past, I’ve been dealing with my problem with a special trick. How? – you may wonder. How does she do it? And how come nobody has noticed? Let me tell you my secret. I rest on straight arms. Now, resting on straight arms is always a good idea for conserving your strength. In the case of the farsighted, aging climber, it has additional benefits. While I rest on straight arms, I lean back so I can actually see the holds! Next, I scout out the route, memorize my sequence. Then I pull myself into the rock, climb, and pray to the rock goddess that my body follows my mental image of the route and hits the crimps that I sussed out previously. Sequence executed, I come to my next rest position, where I lean back, once again able to see the climb. Repeat. Succeed.

I think I’m onto something here. Maybe I’ll be able to get away with my straight-arms workaround for another season or two or even three, or until I loose my short-term memory, whichever comes first. (My memory also has taken a nosedive in the last three months and seems to be declining more rapidly than my vision ever did. Double sigh.)

I haven’t read about this innovative climbing technique for the agedly challenged in any of the magazines. When I read climbing magazines it strikes me just how much focus there is on the young superstars. Granted, it is interesting to learn about people pushing the very envelope of the sport, which usually translates into chasing grades; and that is done by very young climbers.  But as the generation of baby boomers ages, the numbers of aging climbers are growing. Since we can’t do anything about the fact that we age, how we age is important.

At the January club meeting, ECP president Sam Taggart invited members to write more articles for the Explorer, and he mentioned columns. I immediately thought of writing a column about climbing and aging.

Apart from climbing tips for the farsighted, future entries will include information and viewpoints about the physiological, psychological, and social aspects of aging for climbers.

Notice I typeset my column in big font.

Climb on!

Roadblocks

By the end of the summer, I had written the first chapter. I gave the chapter to Chris Dvonch and Bill Baxter to review, and turned my attention to the issue of surveys, brought up by Phil Sidel. I've made very little progress in my writing since.

Surveys

My original plan had been to include profiles of climbers. But Phil suggested a survey approach, even a non-scientific one, would be better. I did invest about two months into the survey question. The survey I posted to the ECP generated a large and interesting data set. So much so, that it would require many weeks to analyze.

My conclusion after having given surveys a try, and some reading in the social science arena is that I, as a scientist, cannot live with anything less than the perfect scientific survey, fully analyzed. The time I'd have to invest in that is way beyond the scope of writing an interesting and inspiring book in about one year.

I have been trying to find a compromise. My thinking right now is to utilize profiles plus a few brief non-scientific surveys addressing key questions posted to climbing forums such as mountainproject.com.

Chapter 1

Chris raised several issues which I have been thinking about for many weeks now. First, she found that my introduction was not really an introduction. She thought the purpose of the introduction is to tell the reader about the book, perhaps with a personal motivation explaining why I wrote the book and what purpose I believe it is serving.

I had thought to put some of this in a foreword. The foreword would be a very personal motivation, then the first chapter would launch right into the issue of age.

Chris made a second very good point, in telling me that I had to figure out what voice I was going to use for the book. She noted I was mixing first person singular and plural and third person voices, and she described some of the perceptions she was getting from my style. Some of what she said I found written up by Daphne Gray-Grant in The power of "point of view".

I am now considering using the first singular and second person voices, for passion and inclusiveness. And with voice and audience in mind, I need to re-write the introduction. I'm getting ready to do just that.

Photography

To keep working on the book, and to make progress toward getting profiles, I have been studying about legal issues connected with publishing photographs of my subjects.

The book by Andrew Hudson, The Law of Photographers, clarifies many issues related to copyright and model releases. Another useful resource is the asmp website.

Several climbers have shared their backgrounds with me and given me permission to publish their photographs via email. I am currently following up on the permissions with asmp informed release forms.

ECP Climber Survey

The ECP Survey is now closed. Thank you for participating!


Phil S. suggested that I be more scientific in my research on aging climbers. He proposed the survey route. The first survey went out on the ECP listserv on September 10, 2009.

ECP Climber Survey

ECP Survey Results (requires password)

“The Aging Climber” Project

What: A book, at least 80 pages in length

Target audience: Rock climbers who feel mid-life-ish or older

Purpose: To be informational and inspirational by sharing the joy of climbing from an older and sometimes wiser climber’s perspective.

Target publication date: September 2010


Working book title: The Aging Climber

Proposed Contents:

Chapter 1: Are you an “older” climber? Read on…
Intro
Test: You are an older climber if…
Research on aging in general

Chapter 2: Lifers
Climbing as a lifestyle
Why lifers keep climbing as they age

Chapter 3: Mid-life n00bies
Why did they take up climbing?
Risks, family responsibilities, and time commitment

Chapter 4: So you still want to climb 5.12?
What goals do mid-life newbies strive for?
What goals do life-long climbers set for themselves as they age?

Chapter 5: Tips for interacting with “younger” climbers
Buy new gear
No talking about the good-old days
Feed them and transport them, if needed
Share your expertise liberally

Chapter 6: Training schedules for aging climbers (Needs research)
How the body and the mind change with age
Research on aging athletes
How to implement this knowledge in your climbing

Chapter 7: Health issues for aging climbers (Needs research)
Will climbing do you any good?
What’s bad about climbing for the aging body?
Dealing with overuse injuries

Chapter 8: The final chapter
What do you say at your climbing partner’s memorial?
What do you want them to say on your tombstone?


More about the book: My vision for the book is that it will be informational as well as inspirational. I’m striving for a fun, even cheeky, tone, unless the topic is a serious one.

I imagine weaving the text of the book around a collection of personal stories written by “older” climbers such as you. Will you write a personal “adventures-of-the-older-climber” story concerning one of your core experiences with aging and how it influenced your climbing? I think it would be a lot of fun to collect and share our anecdotes of what kinds of issues have come up and how we mastered them.

What do you think? Please, give me feedback. I've created a thread on rockclimbing.com (see links) for general discussion, and use the comment feature on this page to give direct input on book content.