Three days in the Crystal Lake Area
Posted: Sat Jan 24, 2015 9:00 pm
I took George the van camping for the first time this week. I got up late on Tuesday, finished loading, and drove to Chris's house in Fullerton to pick him up before heading to Crystal Lake. On the way, a kid in a green Civic sedan hit George in the left rear bumper, bouncing off and launching bits of his bumper. George has a pain transfer on the bumper, and the bumper itself may have dented, though it's impossible to tell as he's quite worn. I was screaming at this kid as I tried to follow him. He sped away and winded his way through traffic. I got George up to 85, not something I'd like to repeat. I didn't get his plate number. Had I encountered him, I wouldn't be surprised if I hit him.
I've always been honest with people and owned up to my mistakes. I work as a member of a team, and I understand disciplinary action. It angers me deep down when someone steals or does something wrong which forces someone to be a victim. I do not like being a victim. If you want to steal my car, it would only be fair if I were present. This would allow me to have a say in things.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
George
Moving on... we made it to Crystal Lake in the late afternoon. It's too late to climb or go canyoneering, so we hung out at camp, made a fire, cooked dinner, and drank beer. I rarely drink anymore. 3 beers for the night, and I go to bed in the van. A headache grows in strength, and I start feeling nauseous. I realize by now that there's no avoiding vomiting, and I slump-hustle to the door, slide it open, and it all comes out. I did this 3 or 4 times, dry-heaving the last few as always. Feels great. I get this way with migraines, with or without any alcohol. I think it's experiences like these that keep me from desiring suffering in climbing and alpinism. I don't want more pain. I've always had migraines. Pain has always been there. I didn't get a great number when genetics rolled the dice for me. I'm kinda a crappy third-rate human who hopefully has a decent mind. The rest is kinda garbage.
The next day, we descend Upper Soldier Creek, which has 4 rappels or so, the longest of which is 120ft or so. We encountered huge amounts of doves. Chris found and picked up a dove which had suffered facial injuries and was sitting on the road. It tried to fly away, only to crash into a bush or something on the roadside. Chris calmed it down and we inspected the injuries. We would encounter 3-4 more downed doves on this day, all of which were dead. It was extremely windy, so I figured they had perhaps crashed as a result. I know very little of bird behavior, and thus cannot make any suppositions.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Chris in the upper part of the canyon
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Getting ready to rappel on the rebuilt anchor. My webbing from a few years ago was a bit crinkly sounding.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
A simple retrievable made for quick rapps.
We hiked up the road back to Adam's, where I requested and received a delicious brownie covered in ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup. A bowl of chili alongside served as real food. Adam asked if I could help find volunteers to assist in clearing the pine needles from around his property for fire safety. I believe Citrus College provides students with volunteer hours for this service, and Adam provides food. Sure beats most jobs I've done.
We spent the second night in the van, which is much quieter and roomier than Chris's tent. He slept on the floor. Didn't look that comfy, but he seemed to do fine.
Our final day had us going after what was a sort of objective of mine for a while now: a crack that leads up the Crystal Lake Wall, which is situated north of the lake on the eastern side of Mt Islip's south ridge. The rock is obviously quite similar to that at the crag by the lake, but it forms a large formation a few hundred feet high, split by ledges connected by easy scrambling. The approach involved hiking up the talus field that the wall forms. This field turns to a creek lower down, which flooded the road right where I lost Klaus. I decided to take us up the approach slabs, which gave us two pitches of easy 5th class roped climbing over sparsely-protected and complex granite.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
The Wall, north of the lake. The first tier bottom right is solid. Above that is loose scrambling. Around the corner in the gully are some steep cracks which have many loose rocks perched on top. Left side has a large roof, which Amanda and I have rappelled over rather on accident, which was cool. I don't recall it having any features to allow climbing through it or whatever. Some OK climbing around there.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Chris on the first pitch up the approach slabs.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Done, moving up.
The first pitch involved moving left and up a difficult to define feature or set of features. I stuck to the best rock, and as always I try to climb the most protectable ground available. Climbing 5.6 near Crystal Lake often has more dire consequences for a fall than doing so elsewhere in an established area. The cracks and features that provide space for protection are also much more complex on average. They often require an aid climber's eye to engineer a placement for a cam or nut. Sometimes, only a bolt will do. As I do not yet bolt and haven't found much worth the trouble, I must make do with gear. This is a pure style, but it's really just a lot of worry and bother in the end. I don't disagree with purity of style one bit. I'm not against placing a bolt on a route where no other form of protection will do, and a fall will result in severe injury or death. Others may disagree with my style. I don't bolt yet anyway, so who gives a shit what I think? I don't wanna lug a hammer and drill around, either.
Clown Syndrome by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
The route, which we named Clown Syndrome as a result of our talk about how Obama is actually a clown, and an assassin, and about a million other things.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
More stuff
Pitch 1 by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Climbing pitch 1, which is well protected and kinda fun.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Straight up, which I didn't like.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Chris having fun.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Big block
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Step across to this slab, then up and right out of photo.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Top of pitch 2. Rappel from here cause the rest sucks.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Left option, which we took.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Right option, which sucks. Top of block in front drops off to the ground on other side, 100-200ft. Awkward moves onto easy terrain with no protection and bad balance.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Pretty colors.
The second pitch had more loose rock. We topped out on the low angle scree field underneath the tower-type structure (more of a lump I guess) north of the main wall. A short walk to the wall had us below the route. I climbed a body length up the first pitch to test its character, and felt it would go easy, technically speaking. Despite the often low gymnastic grade of climbs in the area, the loose rock, odd protection, and other factors present change the character completely. I climbed the first pitch, which I decided to end behind the first bush about 50ft up or so I guess the height to be. It was a fun section with good protection and 5.7 or so climbing. Let's just say moderate 5th class, as I find ratings tiresome, relative, and in the end, a depressing dick measurement system for those of a completely different mindset from mine. I think I placed three cams, a new record considering my typically runout style. Each one was solid and very confidence-inspiring.
From the top of pitch one, I had two choices. I could continue straight up the crack system, which turned to oddball cracks and seams with lots of moss and lichen, or I could go left atop a small ledge with many large loose rocks on top and around the corner to what from the ground appeared to be easy ground. I tried going straight up, but decided to come back after 15ft or so, as I couldn't protect the moves well enough to move confidently on slippery loose steep ground. You would essentially be freesoloing steep moderate ground with zero prior climbers, lots of dirt, lots of loose rocks, with lichen and moss everywhere. One must make the decision if this is worth getting seriously injured for, or killed. It never is to me.
Left it was then, as I placed a #4 C4 right above the belay and behind the flake that formed the ledge I was to climb atop. Directly in the path was a large block (100-200lb?), which if disturbed would probably fall on Chris at the belay. I was exceptionally careful here. I doubt I would be able to maintain anything resembling mental health if my decisions resulted in a friend and partner becoming seriously injured or killed. Chris later trundled this block when he climbed up, and it smashed into the tree belay station.
I cleaned the loose rocks from the ledge and looked around the corner. Easy (and unprotectable) slab lead up for a few body lengths to a large bush growing next to a vertical section of rotten rock. Before leaving the ledge, I placed two small cams (0.3 X4 and blue WC Zero) behind a very solid horn-flake feature at the foot of the slab, which i equalized with a double length sewn nylon runner. If I fell on the slab, this would keep me a bit more in line, instead of around a corner and essentially off-belay. I shuffled to the edge of the ledge and carefully moved onto the slab, which was easy 5th. I made it quickly and confidently to the bush, which didn't look too promising for an anchor. I placed a black #2 DMM alloy offset in a crack before reaching the bush, and slung it with a double length dyneema runner. Bushwhacking left into the thick of it, I discovered the tree stump growing from the crack above. It did not look sturdy to me, but I was able to excavate some dirt from a crack and place a good small cam, which I slung with two single length runners and a locking biner between them, having run out of double length runners. Easy moves up and onto rotten rock had me building a belay off a small stout tree-bush.
Chris could not remove the X4 from its odd spot, so if you'd like, it's up there for the taking. If you'd like to lead this route, drop me a line and I'll belay you and provide information and whatnot in exchange for keeping my cam.
From this belay, there are two options. One can go up and left through rotten Quartz to a bush, where more crappy choices present themselves. One may also go right and over a ridge with a large Yucca growing right in the rope's path. This was my first choice. An unprotected airy step high and right was possible, but I didn't find any good holds for my hands to get me where I needed to be, and zero opportunities for protection. Looking at a possibly very bad fall, I retreated and took the other option. This involved bushwhacking and awkward moves, followed by 3rd class terrain and lots of loose rock laying about. This pitch ended far up next to a large oak on an uncomfortable ledge. We unroped and put things away at this point. While holding the rope over my pack with my teeth as I tend to do (for loading it in a floppy bag), one of my teeth broke and fell away. No pain, just disappointment. From here, we scrambled to the summit, bushwhacked through Buckthorn, and hiked to the crest of the south ridge of Islip. We began our hike down the trail a bit after sunset, with another 20 minutes of usable light left. I had done this previously, when I first scrambled up the wall a year or more ago, winding my way up easy 5th class and scrambling between ledges to learn the character of the wall. The hike out wasn't that long, maybe 4-5 miles. We returned to George the van at 6:something, ate some food, and began the drive down.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on Flickr
Hike out.
I learned what I must do to George to bring him up to speed, so to speak. He needs new brakes, new tires, a thick mattress pad (likely memory foam) so that I may sleep more comfortably, and about a billion other things.
Until next time.
I've always been honest with people and owned up to my mistakes. I work as a member of a team, and I understand disciplinary action. It angers me deep down when someone steals or does something wrong which forces someone to be a victim. I do not like being a victim. If you want to steal my car, it would only be fair if I were present. This would allow me to have a say in things.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrGeorge
Moving on... we made it to Crystal Lake in the late afternoon. It's too late to climb or go canyoneering, so we hung out at camp, made a fire, cooked dinner, and drank beer. I rarely drink anymore. 3 beers for the night, and I go to bed in the van. A headache grows in strength, and I start feeling nauseous. I realize by now that there's no avoiding vomiting, and I slump-hustle to the door, slide it open, and it all comes out. I did this 3 or 4 times, dry-heaving the last few as always. Feels great. I get this way with migraines, with or without any alcohol. I think it's experiences like these that keep me from desiring suffering in climbing and alpinism. I don't want more pain. I've always had migraines. Pain has always been there. I didn't get a great number when genetics rolled the dice for me. I'm kinda a crappy third-rate human who hopefully has a decent mind. The rest is kinda garbage.
The next day, we descend Upper Soldier Creek, which has 4 rappels or so, the longest of which is 120ft or so. We encountered huge amounts of doves. Chris found and picked up a dove which had suffered facial injuries and was sitting on the road. It tried to fly away, only to crash into a bush or something on the roadside. Chris calmed it down and we inspected the injuries. We would encounter 3-4 more downed doves on this day, all of which were dead. It was extremely windy, so I figured they had perhaps crashed as a result. I know very little of bird behavior, and thus cannot make any suppositions.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrChris in the upper part of the canyon
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrGetting ready to rappel on the rebuilt anchor. My webbing from a few years ago was a bit crinkly sounding.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrA simple retrievable made for quick rapps.
We hiked up the road back to Adam's, where I requested and received a delicious brownie covered in ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup. A bowl of chili alongside served as real food. Adam asked if I could help find volunteers to assist in clearing the pine needles from around his property for fire safety. I believe Citrus College provides students with volunteer hours for this service, and Adam provides food. Sure beats most jobs I've done.
We spent the second night in the van, which is much quieter and roomier than Chris's tent. He slept on the floor. Didn't look that comfy, but he seemed to do fine.
Our final day had us going after what was a sort of objective of mine for a while now: a crack that leads up the Crystal Lake Wall, which is situated north of the lake on the eastern side of Mt Islip's south ridge. The rock is obviously quite similar to that at the crag by the lake, but it forms a large formation a few hundred feet high, split by ledges connected by easy scrambling. The approach involved hiking up the talus field that the wall forms. This field turns to a creek lower down, which flooded the road right where I lost Klaus. I decided to take us up the approach slabs, which gave us two pitches of easy 5th class roped climbing over sparsely-protected and complex granite.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrThe Wall, north of the lake. The first tier bottom right is solid. Above that is loose scrambling. Around the corner in the gully are some steep cracks which have many loose rocks perched on top. Left side has a large roof, which Amanda and I have rappelled over rather on accident, which was cool. I don't recall it having any features to allow climbing through it or whatever. Some OK climbing around there.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrChris on the first pitch up the approach slabs.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrDone, moving up.
The first pitch involved moving left and up a difficult to define feature or set of features. I stuck to the best rock, and as always I try to climb the most protectable ground available. Climbing 5.6 near Crystal Lake often has more dire consequences for a fall than doing so elsewhere in an established area. The cracks and features that provide space for protection are also much more complex on average. They often require an aid climber's eye to engineer a placement for a cam or nut. Sometimes, only a bolt will do. As I do not yet bolt and haven't found much worth the trouble, I must make do with gear. This is a pure style, but it's really just a lot of worry and bother in the end. I don't disagree with purity of style one bit. I'm not against placing a bolt on a route where no other form of protection will do, and a fall will result in severe injury or death. Others may disagree with my style. I don't bolt yet anyway, so who gives a shit what I think? I don't wanna lug a hammer and drill around, either.
Clown Syndrome by TacoDelRio, on FlickrThe route, which we named Clown Syndrome as a result of our talk about how Obama is actually a clown, and an assassin, and about a million other things.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrMore stuff
Pitch 1 by TacoDelRio, on FlickrClimbing pitch 1, which is well protected and kinda fun.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrStraight up, which I didn't like.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrChris having fun.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrBig block
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrStep across to this slab, then up and right out of photo.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrTop of pitch 2. Rappel from here cause the rest sucks.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrLeft option, which we took.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrRight option, which sucks. Top of block in front drops off to the ground on other side, 100-200ft. Awkward moves onto easy terrain with no protection and bad balance.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrPretty colors.
The second pitch had more loose rock. We topped out on the low angle scree field underneath the tower-type structure (more of a lump I guess) north of the main wall. A short walk to the wall had us below the route. I climbed a body length up the first pitch to test its character, and felt it would go easy, technically speaking. Despite the often low gymnastic grade of climbs in the area, the loose rock, odd protection, and other factors present change the character completely. I climbed the first pitch, which I decided to end behind the first bush about 50ft up or so I guess the height to be. It was a fun section with good protection and 5.7 or so climbing. Let's just say moderate 5th class, as I find ratings tiresome, relative, and in the end, a depressing dick measurement system for those of a completely different mindset from mine. I think I placed three cams, a new record considering my typically runout style. Each one was solid and very confidence-inspiring.
From the top of pitch one, I had two choices. I could continue straight up the crack system, which turned to oddball cracks and seams with lots of moss and lichen, or I could go left atop a small ledge with many large loose rocks on top and around the corner to what from the ground appeared to be easy ground. I tried going straight up, but decided to come back after 15ft or so, as I couldn't protect the moves well enough to move confidently on slippery loose steep ground. You would essentially be freesoloing steep moderate ground with zero prior climbers, lots of dirt, lots of loose rocks, with lichen and moss everywhere. One must make the decision if this is worth getting seriously injured for, or killed. It never is to me.
Left it was then, as I placed a #4 C4 right above the belay and behind the flake that formed the ledge I was to climb atop. Directly in the path was a large block (100-200lb?), which if disturbed would probably fall on Chris at the belay. I was exceptionally careful here. I doubt I would be able to maintain anything resembling mental health if my decisions resulted in a friend and partner becoming seriously injured or killed. Chris later trundled this block when he climbed up, and it smashed into the tree belay station.
I cleaned the loose rocks from the ledge and looked around the corner. Easy (and unprotectable) slab lead up for a few body lengths to a large bush growing next to a vertical section of rotten rock. Before leaving the ledge, I placed two small cams (0.3 X4 and blue WC Zero) behind a very solid horn-flake feature at the foot of the slab, which i equalized with a double length sewn nylon runner. If I fell on the slab, this would keep me a bit more in line, instead of around a corner and essentially off-belay. I shuffled to the edge of the ledge and carefully moved onto the slab, which was easy 5th. I made it quickly and confidently to the bush, which didn't look too promising for an anchor. I placed a black #2 DMM alloy offset in a crack before reaching the bush, and slung it with a double length dyneema runner. Bushwhacking left into the thick of it, I discovered the tree stump growing from the crack above. It did not look sturdy to me, but I was able to excavate some dirt from a crack and place a good small cam, which I slung with two single length runners and a locking biner between them, having run out of double length runners. Easy moves up and onto rotten rock had me building a belay off a small stout tree-bush.
Chris could not remove the X4 from its odd spot, so if you'd like, it's up there for the taking. If you'd like to lead this route, drop me a line and I'll belay you and provide information and whatnot in exchange for keeping my cam.
From this belay, there are two options. One can go up and left through rotten Quartz to a bush, where more crappy choices present themselves. One may also go right and over a ridge with a large Yucca growing right in the rope's path. This was my first choice. An unprotected airy step high and right was possible, but I didn't find any good holds for my hands to get me where I needed to be, and zero opportunities for protection. Looking at a possibly very bad fall, I retreated and took the other option. This involved bushwhacking and awkward moves, followed by 3rd class terrain and lots of loose rock laying about. This pitch ended far up next to a large oak on an uncomfortable ledge. We unroped and put things away at this point. While holding the rope over my pack with my teeth as I tend to do (for loading it in a floppy bag), one of my teeth broke and fell away. No pain, just disappointment. From here, we scrambled to the summit, bushwhacked through Buckthorn, and hiked to the crest of the south ridge of Islip. We began our hike down the trail a bit after sunset, with another 20 minutes of usable light left. I had done this previously, when I first scrambled up the wall a year or more ago, winding my way up easy 5th class and scrambling between ledges to learn the character of the wall. The hike out wasn't that long, maybe 4-5 miles. We returned to George the van at 6:something, ate some food, and began the drive down.
Untitled by TacoDelRio, on FlickrHike out.
I learned what I must do to George to bring him up to speed, so to speak. He needs new brakes, new tires, a thick mattress pad (likely memory foam) so that I may sleep more comfortably, and about a billion other things.
Until next time.