The following may have been written whilst listening to Fleetwood Mac - Rumours and probably three glasses of complementary BA sauvignon blanc down. Don't blame me if it's sub par.
"I can't get enough"
"one thing I think you should know, I ain't gonna miss you when you go."
Restless. I need to move. I cannot sit still. I vacate my seat, again, walk down the aisle, to the window at the back. I look out over the sea and land. I recognise the shapes, The Isle of Arran and The Mull of Kintyre. Goodbye Scotland. For now. Soon all is blue, and bright, flying west the sun never sets.
I booked the hire car, I thought I'd treat us to a 5-door something, a Ford Focus, excellent, a known quantity. After 15 hours of travel I was in no mood for the hire car lady to try and sandbag us with a 3-door-pocket-go-kart Cheverlet Spark. Eventually we lucked out with a mini 4x4, a Ford Eco sport something, Titanium, buzz word. The 4 wheel drive was handy for some of the tracks to the crags, wouldn't want to have to walk too far with a heavy bag now, I'll save that for Scottish Winter. Anyway I digress. The rest of the car was trying to be too clever for its own good with a beep, buzz or light for every 'warning' and a toot of the horn to confirm you've locked it. Shut up. Automatics are also crap, this Ford had a worse MPG than the Model T, its 100 year old predecessor. Nothing like a bit of progress ey?
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| Trying to open the boot of the all too clever Ecosport |
"I just want you to feel fine."
Cleverly on the run-up to the trip I went OTB on my mountain bike, used my face as a brake and hurt my hand. Something like a boxer's fracture, but probably not broken? Who knows, I didn’t get it x-rayed. One sore, bruised and swollen hand, great, perfect a week before a crack climbing trip!! I took it easy for the first few days, but easy wasn’t enough. Day 2 and it felt like my hand exploded whilst top roping a cupped hands corner crack. Great. Gutted. It even hurt to untie my knot afterwards. Frustrating, honestly so gutted. Anyway, a week off and almost 100 ibuprofen during the rest of the trip and I did manage to climb some things… Luckily it is a stunning place to just be.
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| Not the worst place in the world to be on belay duty. Long Canyon, near Moab. |
Once I did get climbing again...
We learned quickly that the cracks were always wider than they appeared from the ground. Unless it's a finger splitter then you'll be campusing on single-knuckle-deep desperate tips, it doesn't hurt the skin, just the bones scream instead. And the next day too. Add a high pain tolerance and 20 ibuprofen to the essential gear list.
100' of thin hands is about 95' too far, thankfully this realisation came whilst embracing the ever popular top rope. Very un-british, very wise Creek Freak tactic. I did not TRonsight.
Although laybacking (or should I say liebacking) is hard, pumpy and scary on lead, it feels like cheating on TR. You'll maybe figure out the moves but not the gear, all while becoming weak in the mind. And not getting any better at ring locks.
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| Indian Creek from Scarface Wall. |
Did I project anything? What? No. F Red Pointing. When there are 1000 other quality routes you could go and fall off. The most burns I have something was two on TR, first one I fell off on the off fingers splitter crux (0.75s). The next go I laybacked past it, cursing at myself. You're not going to learn anything by laybacking past the ring lock section. Enough of that.
"now you tell me that I'm crazy, it's nothing that I don't know."
Don't get too caught up with the cliff. Take the blinkers off, turn around and look at the stunning scenery.
When it got cold enough for my water bottle to have frozen solid a few nights in a row, I decided that was enough bivvying and pitched my tent for the first time in a couple of weeks. Cold and sunny during the day (primo) and very cold and starry overnight.
It was weird waking up in a tent, looking up and not seeing the stars, like someone has switched them off. Bivvying I would watch the crescent moon chase Orion across the night sky, feel the gentle cool breeze on my face. All that sounds very idyllic but with the breeze came the ubiquitous desert sand. I woke up one night and it felt like my eyes were full of it. Breakfast the next morning had a bit of a grittiness to it.
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| Desert slick rock bivvy, idyllic, windy, sandy, starry. |
October 31st. Halloween. We found ourselves at Arches National Park. Dressed as two trail runners we set off and bagged a whole load of arches, a desert tower and a good few km's of quality sandy/rocky trails. Spotted a racoon that turned out to be a red panda, of course, that classic onesie. How could we be so naive.
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| Dressed as trail runners, running trails in Arches NP. |
So November obviously is the time to be in the Creek, I mean even Ondra and his crew were there. All the bells, whistles, photographers and a F'ing drone. I'm sure the footage of him climbing Air Swedin will be sweet but if I was American and had a gun I would have shot that thing out the sky. bbbzzzzzz. Aaaah. Fffff. "I love it when I step out of my comfort zone and onsight 5.13" definitely wins the best comment award on Ondras Instagram update.
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| La Sal Mountains, just. |
My first coffee pot comes from a spark, my second coffee pot is a way to depart.
The day is done, the sun has set, the long night has begun. The scavenged Utah Juniper wood burns steady on the campfire, a natural aromatic heat, a crackle, glow and light. Sweet potatoes are baked in the embers. Songs with half remembered verses are sung, stories exchanged and books read. The stars are gazed at in wonder. The moon is half full again now.
The sharp laughing bark and howl of the Coyote welcomes the first light of the day. It will be another hour before the sun's warm rays blink over the horizon. I turn in my sleeping bag with a groan. Not yet ready to rise.
There's no phone signal in Indian Creek so noticeboards are used for friends to communicate camping spots and climbing plans. The petroglyphs of Newspaper Rock are no longer in vogue.
My body is worn out. Everything feels tired this morning. Sleep has been a restless affair the last few nights and my muscles know it.
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| Sorting out the Creek Rack, Supercrack Buttress in the background. |
"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sunrise"
I probably watched the sun appear over the south-eastern horizon more days than not. I love the early morning peace.
"wake up in the morning see the sunrise"
The sun is rising into the blue sky, again, I could get used to this. Warming the air and bringing life into the day. Another bluebird day. The cool and dry wind, predominantly from the north west, chilly in the shade, perfect in the sun. Conditions on the rock could not be better. Running out of excuses.
Tight hands and off fingers were climbed slightly more straight on and slightly less layback. Progress of a sort. The splitter, honestly, it’s probably what you come here for but after about 5 meters of the same, slightly awkward, increasingly painful moves, you’ve kinda done it (or you haven’t). The climbs I enjoyed the most were definitely the ones with a bit more variety, keep the interest, keep you problem solving. It’s not an experience to miss but not a style that I could solely climb, variety, diversity that’s what I prefer.
You know it's wide when you gear up and 'big blue' becomes small blue.
The wider the crack the more tape required.
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| Wide Rack. |
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| Balanced Rock, Arches NP. |
I washed until the water ran clear in the shower tray. Red desert sand gets everywhere.
My clothes are stained red, and smell of wood smoke, my hands have aged 20 years, my body is tired and hurts. However I have learned a lot, and had one of the best trips ever. Yeah I didn't climb hard, had a week off at the start, and generally punted around, alot. But that's not why I went to America, to Utah, to Indian Creek, it's about so much more than the climbing.
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| North and South Six Shooter Towers from 2nd Meat Wall. |
Going from a month of camping, and sitting on the ground, cooking and eating stretched out on a tarp. To standing up to cook and then sitting on a seat at a table for dinner, well, it's the little things. That's luxury for me. That's enough.
Eldorado Canyon, Eldo, OG Eldo. Like Pass of Ballater on steroids. But it's not granite, I know, hard-red-sandstone, might as well be granite. Not gold but quality. I’d go back if I was in the area. y’know.
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| Pass of Ballater... |
RVs the size of a small flat with a land rover as a tow vehicle.
Whilst lowering off from a route on a roadside crag I heard a terrible scraping noise from the road. I look round to see a caravan with a bicycle half fallen off the back, being dragged along the tarmac. Ooops. It will be a half bicycle soon.
Flatirons, the First Flatiron, flatrions? Nope, Flat-Iron. Snow and ice filled the water-runnel start to the first pitch to East Face Direct. We climbed friction slab to the right and were back on route at the first belay. From there, it was vague, just taking the most interesting line and the best rock - just go direct I guess? Joining North Arete just before the summit. Snow, wind, sunshine, great views, more wind, we kept moving. The exposed down climb went without issue, and quickly we were back in the shelter of the pines. Smells like Christmas, just a month to go. Trainers back on. Slip and slide the icey path back to our micro 4x4. The minions would approve of the morning jaunt.
"well who am I to keep you down?"
I would recommend Indian Creek to anyone. What a stunning place to climb. High concentration of quality routes on generally good rock. Heck, we've even got a must do-list for the return visit.
Trips like this though, they always inspire many more adventures. Tick one place off the list and add five more. I'll definitely be back to 'merica. "You can go your own way." Go and figure it out for yourself, I'm not going to tell you where to camp, which routes to climb, or where to get food and water. It's part of the fun, make your own trip. Just go.
Whilst boarding the plane I helped a middle aged woman lift her cabin bag into the overhead locker with a smile on my face. She was distraught about being downgraded from 1st class to business. Oh how the other side live. We'll all get to London at the same time. I walk to the back of the plan to find I have lucked out and have 3 seats to myself. Legs stretched out, make-do first class.
Another flight north and it's 6 degrees and wet in Aberdeen, Scotland, I’m home. Bring on winter!
