The Crux

Notes from Southwest Semester climbing camp at Cochise Stronghold:

Tired heads rise from friendly shoulders as our white Ford van stumbles into camp. My body smiles acquiescently at the possibility of barbeque chicken pizza for dinner (Amanda, my tent groups designated cook for tonight is constantly raising the culinary bar in the backcountry kitchen.).

Embracing a warm Nagene bottle with callused hands, I retire soon after dinner sipping hot apple cider and apologizing for my lack of energy. A small group of students have found Gin Rummy a favorite post-prandial activity in which points, corresponding to specific cards, are recorded and the highest point scorer at the end of night decides on an embarrassing punishment for the other players to carry out the following day in front of the rest of the group. Tonight, crashing will be best for me, as it will set me up well for another day of climbing.

5:30am: I fumble every zipper on my way out of the tent (temporarily stirring Pete and Amanda from their dreams) and rush to The Groover (If you are unfamiliar with The Groover, just ask your son or daughter, or any NOLS alumnus, and I’m sure they’ll be more that delighted to enlighten you and maybe even share a story of scatological detail.). For breakfast we have a bacon, egg, cheese bagel sandwich… not bad, huh?

11:45am: The whole group is scattered at the base of Pale Face, our crag for the day. I just finished my safety check with Liam, a good friend and my belayer. With The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” fresh on my mind, I gaze up at the rock, decide on a line, and take a mental snap shot that I will carry with me on the climb. My hands are chalked, I’m on belay, and I’m starting to climb.

Pretty easy so far: there are plenty of positive footholds and some good crack within reach (… enter your own joke here). Slowly but surely, as mental snap shot confirms, the number of good handholds diminish and foot placement gets trickier. I begin to smear my C4 rubber soled climbing shoes on the thin rock face to balance and position myself for a series of difficult maneuvers. Wedged fingers in the shallow crack hold my weight as I strategically place feet.

This is the crux.

I know I can pull it off, but I still holler down to Liam to “watch me” as my arms and calves tremble in an anticipatory and exhausting position. Breathing is essential in climbing so I take a second to supply my muscles with oxygen before I attempt any movement. “At least there are some decent options,” I tell myself after spotting some irregularities in the rock. Without thinking, I pinch, crimp, smear, and extend my way up through the crux and to the anchor.

“Hell ya!” I scream triumphantly. My exuberance is quickly echoed with a resounding “Yes!” I look to my right and see Jordan, the top of his route in a cloud of chalk clapping his hands. “Well done!” I congratulate him. “Thanks, bud!”

As I’m lowered to the ground I stare back at the recently conquered route and smile–knowing that other students will share the same satisfaction in topping out, and at the end of the day we’ll sit around our stoves bragging about how well we climbed.

Willie Oakley is a Southwest Semester Two student geographically and culturally far from his home of Charleston, South Carolina. Willie has written several other entries for the Southwest Blog during his semester. Currently, he is serving as the leader of his Independent Student Travel Group in the Gila.