Subject: TR: it always rains once in the summer Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 21:53:55 -0700 Newsgroups: rec.climbing When I first came to the San Francisco Bay Area (in summer 1983, from the Midwest), the weather took a little getting used to: no matter how hot during the day, it cooled off in the evening enough to want a blanket; no one had air conditioning; and no one worried about the rain. Temperatures follow a more-or-less seven day cycle, governed by the sun warming the Central Valley and drawing cool ocean air through the Golden Gate, several hundred miles away. The Valley "breathes", and the Golden Gate is the mouth (along with a few other cuts across the coastal range). Except ... after being here a couple of months, I had a trip planned to drive down the coast to Big Sur. Much to my surprise - it started raining. No big deal, I was used to rain in the real world, but thoughts of a weekend on the beach were pretty much wiped out. Twenty years on, I've gotten pretty accustomed to this cycle - but I have also learned the lesson that It Always Rains Once In The Summer. Well, I've learned the lesson, but I haven't really internalized it. Pat & I have recently been spending a lot of time cragging in the Southern Yosemite, mostly at the Balls and Wamello (Fresno) Dome. This past Saturday, I was out to do something "longer" on Wamello. As we left the Bay Area, I said "they're talking about a slight possibility of thunderstorms, we should try to remember our shells" - but in the hustle of getting out of the house, it didn't happen. Oh well - it's a slight possibility, they don't really know what they're talking about anyway. Saturday saw us sleep in, run some errands, have a late breakfast, and start up to the Dome. Weather's looking nice, a few clouds in the sky, Three other vehicles parked at the trailhead - we find the first group of hikers on top of one of the subsidiary domes. For a change, we don't get lost on the approach, but it takes some time to find the climb we're after (why did Spencer draw seams in the rock as cracks? most annoying...) - a left facing 5.7 corner called Looking Glass. A few sprinkles. Hmm. We get under the trees and it blows over. There are some clouds still, a couple of ridges away. Flake the rope, climb a little flake, set the first piece, go. Hey, this corner is *big*. I mean, I'd added a #10 hex to my rack, thinking it might find a home, but decided to leave the #11 at home, since I *never* find a placement. Well, I would have found room for it, endwise, and the 3.5 and 4 Camalots, and bigger if I had it. The crack is slightly smaller than an offwidth and slightly more than an armlength deep, so I can't excavate for a crack at the back. Jeez. Instead, I end up doing a 30-40 foot runout above a decent stopper - after cleaning out the moss. No one has been here for a while, or so it would seem. Good thing we've been climbing a lot of slab lately. It's pretty easy going, good feet, mostly no hands, mostly no pro. "Halfway." Hmm. Try to sling a horn, can't quite get it. Damn. Keep going. Finally there's a decent Camalot placement at the back. Phew. Then ... nothing. 20 feet, 30 feet, 40 feet... ah, another camalot, and I can see a constriction where I can get a couple of pieces for an anchor. Good. "Hey, that storm is headed this way." "Yeah - what do you want me to do about it?" "Come down. I can see lightning now." Urgle. Yeah, it's probably the right thing. Yeah, there was this long thread about lightning storms. Yeah but ... it sure would be easier to just go another 10 feet, build an anchor and hang out in the alcove. "I'm not sure I can downclimb this." "OK, I'll try - don't make the rope too tight." Goodbye, sweet Camalot. Now I have 40 feet of no-hands face to downclimb. Funny thing about downclimbing - it doesn't feel like just reversing what I do on the way up, especially without hands. On the way up, it's find the next foothold, better the next two, move the foot, shift the weight, press up on the leg, place the other foot. I don't really know how, or don't practice enough, or something, lowering slowly in balance - when I downclimb routes in the gym, I use my hands to provide balance and that makes moving my feet to the next hold a lot easier. It also make that practice somewhat less useful in the real world. Oh well. Down we go. "There's a reason it's only 5.7." "It was easy on the way up." "Not really." "Shut up, sure it was. No hands 5.7 - how hard can it be?" "Gonna be a nasty case of road rash if I slip." "I wonder if I can jam myself into the corner and shimmy down?" "How the fuck am I gonna turn around to do *that*?" "Hmm, just move down, there must be a foothold here somewhere." OK. Back to the previous Camalot. "How far to halfway?" "About 15 feet." I can do that. 15 feet? No problem. Just keep doing what I've been doing ... and ignore the raindrops. One foot after the other. "Halfway!" "OK, let me see what I've got here..." Find a nut placement way high that I'd passed over before due to potential rope drag. Slot one of my beloved long-sling Frost nuts, clip the leaver 'biner I've been carrying for just this moment, thread my rap device ... "OK, I'm gonna lower, keep me on belay just in case..." though it's not really clear what the belay from below would do, it makes me feel better. Lower, lower, lower ... geez, this is slow, but faster than downclimbing. Sure does make me nervous, though. OK, I'm at the next placement. This is good. It's raining harder. Pull it, keep going, throw it on my rack somewhere, get down to the first piece, good, OK, on the ground, it's starting to pour. "OK, untie and pull the rope from my end and let's get under the trees." Which is what we do. Coil the rope, change shoes, watch the lightning "one, two, three, four, five, boom - hmm, that's a mile away, right?", decide that pine trees make crappy umbrellas, and decide to just hike out. There's a river of water coming down the wall just to the right of where I was climbing - pretty amazing. On the hike out, we meet Lg with some clients huddled under a tree. This one is doing a better job of keeping the rain off, so we chat for a while - then when the storm has pretty much blown past, we take off while they go back to building anchors (or at least grab their gear). We get back to the truck, dodge the mosquitoes, head down the hill to dry out and get yummy apple pie at the Mountain House ... ... and remind ourselves that it always rains once in the summer, especially when you have something planned that weekend. Next time - an earlier start, rain shells, and BigBros!