My Saturn's Chandelier

The chandelier wires swung. The lights fell off months ago. I concentrated hard. My stomach growled. I was afraid to fart; I’d shit myself. I stared at the dome light wires in my Saturn station wagon. It was never a chandelier. I wondered how long I had lied to myself. In a few hours, the Ward Gulch Fire would consume my car, my problems, and me.

What was I doing with my life?

Four years ago, I drove my station wagon 17 hours to Colorado only to turn around a day before I was due to start an internship at Climbing magazine. What was I doing with my life? I took up residence in my twin brother’s laundry room. Matt got me a job running food at a bar and restaurant in Berkeley. I ran fast around the restaurant, dropping off pizza at the wrong tables and pouring beer down customer’s backs. After a few months, the manager sat me down. I expected a raise or a promotion.

"James," he crossed his legs. "Why are you here?"

I wanted to springboard myself into a corporate environment. That was what post college grads did. That’s what I told myself I was doing. I was spring boarding. Honestly, I just wanted to write and go climbing.

I paused long enough for him to add. "James, you walk without a sense of purpose."

I did not become a waiter. I got fired from that job and then a few more. What was I doing with my life?

Eventually, I picked up work writing a blog for some Bay area climbing gyms. I liked the work. It kept me writing and it let me climb. It kept me afloat. I wrote more. Climbing, Rock and Ice, and Alpinist published a few of my stories. Through some inventive hustling (read trimming hippie lettuce in Northern California), I put new tires on my station wagon and drove to crags across the US.

I anchored my life to free climbing long routes in Yosemite Valley. I met an awesome girl. I got more work. I climbed better.

I obsessed this spring. Kim and I ended our 3-year relationship. I invested all my energy into a 900-foot granite buttress, freeing a new route with my friend. I thought only of climbing. Then I finished the route. I felt aimless. Rather than wait for an existential crisis to hit me, I started driving.

I pointed my station wagon east. The Carbondale Mountain Fair held an annual pie-baking contest at the end of July. I had direction in my life. I would climb around Colorado and win the pie-baking contest. I left Yosemite and drove towards the sunrise.

In Tonopah, I took a wrong turn. I pulled over at the Area 51 gas station where the nearby Alien Brothel served Budweiser and gave free tours. The map showed Vegas an hour south. American adventure. I drove towards the bright lights, spent the night with friends, and proceeded to Maple Canyon the next day. I hiked straight to the Pipedream Cave.

I pulled the rope towards the carabiner. As the cord neared the second bolt, I slipped on the polished cobble. I fell. My belayer tried to take in rope and then tried to spot me. I fell anyway. The rope burned my right thigh and upper arm. I landed on my back, hitting a wood post on the tiered landing.

I climbed the route my second try but I felt like a horse had kicked me in the back. I drove to a friend’s house in the middle of Utah and sat on his couch for a day. A pair of Mormon boys came to the porch. I politely asked told them to come back later. Then I rudely told them to come back later. I barely slept that night; the burn on my leg woke me every hour. When the weekend came, I drove to Salt Lake City and baked a few pies. I couldn’t climb but I could train for the pie-baking contest. My back started to healed a little. I started to sleep through the night. With a few pies under my belt, I headed towards Rifle, closer to the pie-baking contest.

I struggled up the walls. My back still hurt. I ate dinner and tried to sleep but felt restless that night. When my eggs finished cooking on my camp stove, I puked. The diarrhea started a few hours later.

Lightning struck in the Ward Gulch. The fire ignited thousands of junipers and sage. The fire ravaged Colorado. The flames spread towards Rifle Mountain Park, where I had been climbing and camping. City officials evacuated the park. Rumors circulated that there was a 99% chance of the fire burning one of America’s premier sport climbing destinations.

I settled into the back of my station wagon and stared at the wires that had once held my dome light. My stomach quaked. I almost farted. The burns itched. My back hurt. I could feel the fire coming closer. Everything was burning. What was I doing with my life?

I pictured flickering lights shooting through glass and dancing across the ceiling. I pictured a thousand lights at the end of the wires. I focused. I created a chandelier in my station wagon.

The Final Frontier

I screamed at the granite wall.  The sound bounced off Yosemite’s Fifi Buttress and drowned into the roar of Bridalveil Falls.  I lowered to the belay, where Katie stood at a small stance.  I was six inches from a free ascent.  It felt like six miles.  I’d cleaned the route. Pulled out old gear.  Placed bolts.  Climbed on the pitches a ton.  I’d trained hard.  I stopped sleeping-  Would the work ever pan out? 

Mikey Schaefer photo of me climbing the penultimate arch pitch

Dan McDevitt established The Final Frontier, a Grade V 5.7 A3 route in 1999 with Sue McDevitt, Brittany Griffith and Sue’s sister Penny Black.  He climbed the route again with Jim Karn, the first American to win a World Cup in climbing and America’s best sport climber in the 80s.    While they were climbing, Jim Karn told Dan “It’ll go free.”

The Final Frontier on Fifi Buttress

Last spring, Lucho Rivera freed Dan McDevitt’s Romulan Warbird, I climbed a few times while he was working on the first free ascent of the 5.12 route.  Gabe Mange, an El Portal climber, had ropes on the Final Frontier.  Mange wanted to repeat The Final Frontier and worked his way up the route 200 feet left of Romulan Warbird, fixing lines as he went.  One day, instead of climbing with Lucho, I jumared 600 feet up The Final Frontier.  Dan mentioned Jim’s comment to me.  The route looked like it would go but be a lot of work.

Nik works the 5.12+ Lower Corner Pitch. 

Nik finishes up the 5.13 traverse

“This route was a savior and a gift for me.” Nik Berry said.  In April, Nik and I started up the Dihedral Wall on El Capitan to scope a free ascent.  After 2 pitches, I scanned my phone and realized the wall was closed for peregrines.  We bailed.  Remembering the Final Frontier, Nik and I hiked to Fifi Buttress. Gabe’s lines still hung off the 900 foot wall.  We jumared the route and examined the free line.  Nik had an immense amount of psyche from listening to Katy Perry all morning and a limited amount of time in Yosemite.   “The next day, we started to put all our energy into this route with many hours of cleaning moss, weeds and sticks out of cracks and edges.” said Nik in his OR Blog.

Gabe Mange photo of me climbing on the 5.13b Upper Corner Pitch

Eric Bissel executes the cross move on the 5.13 traverse pitch

One of the first difficulties was connecting two thin crack systems.  McDevitt had aided up a thin seam and then pendulumed across the face.  Through the creative inspiration of “California Girls” across the wall, we found a few technical smears and spanned the gap between the crack features. 

Mason Earle linking the crack systems on the 5.13 traverse

“Within a few days, James and I had figured out where the free climbing should go, how to do the moves, and where the bolts should go. A week of bad weather came in and we were forced to boulder and climb at Jailhouse, which is always a nice change from Yosemite. This worked out well anyway since we needed to wait for our bolts to be delivered.” Nik wrote.

Nik and I on the summit.  You can see Ribbon Falls behind us.  Every day, we watched a rainbow form at the base of nearby Bridalveil Falls

After getting all the bolts in, Nik went for the redpoint, leading all the pitches. While he rested at the belays, I tightened the bolts he had placed the day before.  Nik freed the first corner and sent the traverse pitch.  On the upper corner, he climbed the thin crack but fell at the boulder problem near the top.  He tried again but fell.  The boulder problem involves tenuous smearing on polished granite.  He rested and  I toproped up to the boulder problem.  I grabbed a loose hold that broke off  and put a serious gash in my arm. We headed down to tend to my wound and Nik’s wounded ego.  A few days later, Nik managed to redpoint all the pitches and I toproped behind him.  Being on the summit was fun- Nik sent!  The route went free! A nagging feeling persisted as we descended.

Bronson on the last 5.12 pitch.  I removed a few heads, a pecker and pitons from this pitch and others on the route, replacing the fixed mank with bolts where necessary.  

It was rad watching Nik send the route.  He’s an exceptional climber and hard to keep up with.  ““After sending the final pitch, all the work and energy put into this route gave me an incredible feeling of accomplishment.”  Nik said in his OR Blog.  I knew what he meant but felt as though I was unfinished. 

A topo of the route.

Mason Earle climbs through a sea of knobs on the penultimate pitch

I returned to the route.  I took down all of Gabe’s fixed lines and placed my own.  I pulled all the heads and bad pins out.  I added bolts where there had been bad fixed gear.  I managed to send all the moves, then to send all the pitches.  I climbed the route one day with Walker Emerson but I fell on the upper corner pitch. 

When I got to my car, I found this ticket on my dash courtesy of Officer Smith

 I worked the upper corner pitch again with Aaron Smith.  I drove to Tuolumne to sleep at 9000 feet, hoping that the increased altitude would boost my red blood cell count and make the climbing easier.

Delicate smears and a difficult boulder problem cap the pumpy corner.  This proved to be the crux of the route. 

“You just have to let yourself do it,” Katie said as I rested at the belay below the corner.  After a long bit of pouting, wondering if The Final Frontier would be another mega project left undone, I started climbing back up the finger tips corner.  I reached the boulder problem and casually grabbed the crimp and threw to the jug hold.   

Mason flashing the crux pitch.  Mason made the 3rd ascent of the route.  Tobias Wolf made the 4th.  Katie Lambert and Ben Ditto returned to try the route and Will Stanhope and Brad Gobright climbed on it as well.  

The next pitch, which I had well rehearsed, went smoothily.  On the second to last arch pitch, I floundered a bit trying to get off the belay.  The moves felt hard.  I felt tired.  After a fall, I returned to the belay and then climbed to the top of the pitch. Katie followed solidly, climbing the entire route with no falls.

Gabe Mange picture of climbing sporty moves on the Upper Corner pitch

At the summit, I was psyched.  I beamed as Katie climbed the top.  I sent every pitch leading the entire route in a day. It was the hardest climb I’d ever done.  I’d had an amazing experience establishing the route with Nik and then climbing on it with other friends.  It was really fun.  I felt very proud of myself for investing so much into the route and I felt great about the successful ascent. 

Mikey Schaefer photo of me on the Penultimate Arch Pitch

That night, I slept well.

My First Yosemite Trip

A loud crack exploded from the back of the bus. An overweight Mexican jumped out the broken bus window and sprinted alongside the road.  

The Hipster Handbook describes anyone out of luck as "Riding Greyhound"

In June of 2001, after driving across the US from my father’s home in upstate New York, my sister dropped me off at the Phoenix Greyhound Station.  While still in Arizona, the bus stopped for immigration officers to check our papers. A tall crosseyed man with two plastic shopping bags ran to the bathroom door when the officer came on board.  A few minutes later I heard the crack.

This is pretty much what happened

The officer tackled him after 50 yards and the bus drove to Merced with a broken window and the bathroom door locked from the inside. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only trying to escape. 

From Merced, I hopped on the Yosemite shuttle. In the white Valley bus, I tossed two duffle bags. One bag contained an alarm clock, a pair of shorts, and my eyeglasses.  My newer duffle held my climbing equipment for my trip- an unused rope, brand new cams, and 300 feet of webbing which I thought would be enough to set up a toprope on El Capitan.

El Capitan was about 10 times larger than I expected.  

 Pulling into the Valley floor, the enormous granite walls and towering formations dwarfed the Adirondacks and Green Mountains of my youth.  El Capitan was much larger than I had expected.  A few days later, I started work, making beds at the Yosemite Lodge.  I spent my paychecks on more toproping webbing.     

Yosemite Bolt Wars

White powder flew from the granite. I brushed more, cleaning the rock.  Soon, a third of the drawing disappeared.  I stepped back and stared at the remaining chalk. A few minutes later, Midnight Lightning’s bolt vanished.

In 1978, Ron Kauk jumped to a jagged edge on the Columbia Boulder, in the middle of Camp 4.  He matched, swung his feet through and threw his body into a committing mantel, high above a slab.  When Kauk pressed out the granite, he made the first ascent of Midnight Lightning.   Fellow Yosemite climber and Kauk’s contemporary, John Bachar made the second ascent.  The two had been vying for the coveted ascent of the line.

John Bachar climbing Midnight Lightning- the bolt  lacks the bursts

“I drew the original bolt on Midnight Lightning....,” said John Bachar.  “It was Yabo who actually "found" Midnight Lightning. He was sitting in front of it one day and came over to me and Ron Kauk and said he found a new boulder problem. He said it would go...we laughed and said it was impossible….we thought there was about as much chance of doing it as there was the chance that a lightning bolt could strike at midnight (like in the Hendrix song 'Midnight Lightning") - so I drew a bolt on it in chalk....That's it - pretty stupid huh?”

When a hold broke, Bachar made the third ascent. Sometime later, Kauk reinforced the lightning bolt hold in the middle of the problem.  The problem saw its first female ascent by Lynn Hill.  At one point Scot Cosgrove climbed the problem twelve times in a row.  Skip Guerin climbed the problem barefoot and prior to Lynn’s ascent, the problem was down-climbed.  Dave Schultz climbed the problem at midnight.  Yabo made the tenth ascent.

Boulders regularly climb the problem and every climber in Camp 4 paws the first few holds. giving the starting holds classic Yosemite boot polish.  Through it all, the chalk outline remains despite “lightning striking at midnight” on hundreds of occasions. 

The bolt stays even in the deepest snow storms.

Erasing the bolt took two different trips.  The first night, I removed the majority of the chalk.  To help rinse my brush, I stole a water bottle from a climber bivied underneath the problem. 

“Erasing the bolt?” he asked from his sleeping bag.  I nodded.

“Cool,” he responded and went back to sleep. 

The Lightning Bolt before it was erased

The morning after first brushing the hold, a smear of chalk marred Columbia. Thirty years of the lightning bolt outlined proved difficult to remove.  The next evening I returned with a finer brush and a little spray bottle of water. I spent another few hours cleaning the formation.  The next morning, Columbia boulder resembled every other rock in Yosemite. 

 

The empty space lasted a week and half before someone redrew the lightning bolt. I don’t know who put it back.  It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Ron Kauk.  It wasn’t John Bachar coming from his grave.

Nik Berry on an unknown problem in Camp 4

“It was probably some Euro,” said Dean Fidelman, one of the original Stonemasters and one of the few who still hangs in Yosemite.  “They want the picture.”

Over thirty years, with every passing ascent, the lightning bolt became less of a testament to a remarkable ascent, of lightning striking at midnight.  The chalk transformed into a trademark, another tourist attraction for passing climbers. The magic left the bolt years ago. 

The new bolt remains slightly duller than the last incarnation.  How long will it remain that way?  Does climbing need these trademarks?  

Hueco Unrestricted

   The Texas sky is brightest two days before the full moon.  It’s possible to walk without a head lamp, to see hundreds of boulders in the dark, and to climb on any of the thousands of problems.  Easy access. Ideal temps. A nearly perfect situation.   This winter, I stared at the boulders, wanting to venture into the night, wondering what Hueco would be like unrestricted.

On my second trip to Hueco, I tore my MCL falling on this classic John Sherman boulder problem. On our last climbing day in Hueco, I finally sent See Spot Run, an amazing V6.

Located 32 miles northeast of El Paso, Texas, Hueco Tanks hosts thousands of high caliber boulder problems in a condensed area. Low, steep terrain allows many of the cruxes to be worked easily; a top down approach to the boulders can be used versus a ground up style.  The large smooth holds keep skin intact so failure becomes an issue of muscle failure.  These factors amount to an easily accessible way to become strong quickly.  Hueco Tanks is a bouldering mecca.

For twenty years, from the late seventies to late nineties, climbers roamed free about Hueco Tanks State Park (HTSP).  Below John Sherman’s See Spot Run, I spoke with Rick Olivier, a climber who has spent the last twenty four winters climbing in Hueco.  “Before the 98 new user plan there was a 300 car limit,” said Rick. “You could bring your dog, play your boom box. Go wherever you wanted.”

Drew Schick works through Whisper of Mortality

From 1989 to 1992, Hueco experienced a Golden Age.  The staff happily permitted cars into the park.  The three svenite mountains, which are separated into four distinct climbing locations: North, East and West Mountains and the East Spur, saw an influx of climbers.  They bolted new routes, the park stayed open until ten pm and the world’s best descended upon the small Texas park.  The steep and powerful climbing provided a huge attraction for any climber wanting to get stronger. 


Brian Hedrick dispatches Alma Blanca- v13

In the height of it all came the Tortilla Syndrome. James Crump, who in 1985 co-authored the first guidebook to Hueco Tanks Indian Height, described the term in Jeff Jackson’s 2000 Climbing article “Then and Now.”  “In the mid 80s the professional climbers discovered Hueco and they had to eat. Had to have their big-number, new-5.13 cover shot.”    Crump blaimed Todd Skinner and his “cronies” for illegally bolting in Hueco, over developing the area and creating anomisity between the park staff and climbers.

 “We were putting up routes as outsiders and that was tweaking the locals. The locals were talking to the rangers so the rangers started tweaking too. The locals made it clear that we weren’t on their team,” said Skinner in the Jackson article. “And, of course, we were bolting.” Skinner said in the Jackson article. “The official position was that bolting was illegal.  The bolts themselves were legal. So, if some unknown person got the bolts into the rock at night, then you could legally climb the route the next morning.”  Skinner and company devised a system with lights to warn each other of approaching rangers.  They got caught though. 

Skinner claimed the bickering between climbers had little to do with the park restrictions.  “Alex Mares (the former head ranger) wants the place as a church. He’s got that holy-war look in his eyes. And the rock-art people want it as a museum.” 

Peter Michaux on the classic and difficult Double Vision V7 on North Mountain

The number of park visitors peaked in the early 1990s. “There were 150,000 people a year,” said current park Superindentent Wanda Olszewski, “which was definitely unsustainable.”   The impact on the park’s vegetation, the thousands of trails popping up, were more obvious than the bolts that climbers were taking a toll on Hueco.

In 1998, The Texas State Park and Wildlife Department increased restrictions.  TSPWD created seventy spots on North Mountain (initially there were fifty spots), allowing sixty spots to be reserved up to ninety days in advance.  The remaining ten spots are left for walk-ins on a first-come, first-serve basis with Hueco Tanks campground members given preference.  In the areas of East Mountain, West Mountain, and the East Spur, an additional 160 people are allowed to climb but they need to be accompanied by a guide.  Guide services fluctuate between $2 and $25 depending on the nature of the tour.

Kyle O'Meara works on Loaded with Power

When the restrictions fell, many of the old vanguard left.  Long time locals like Todd Skinner, Scott Milton, John Sherman, Matt Samet and escaped the new rules. “For me, given how free Hueco once was, how you could just wander around in the park on rest days hanging out, exploring caves, looking for pictographs, not having to go to Barnes and Noble in El Paso to kill time, it was awesome back then,” said Matt Samet, who climbed there for a few seasons prior to the 98 restrictions and then again post restrictions. “In 1999 and 2000, the experience was so different from what it had been that I realized I was done with Hueco.”

There was little love for the new regulations.  “We certainly can’t call the new Site management plan progress, as it stifles the freedom of exploration, but one good thing came out of it: People took what they learned about bouldering possibilities at Hueco Tanks and they explored other areas, and new bouldering spots were developed.,” said long time Hueco climber Scott Milton.  “That, at least, is progress.”

Dean's Trip, a classic and hard V5

The number of climbers visiting the park dropped significantly. According to the Jackson article, in 1986 there were 85,000 climbers.  In 2000, a few years after the regulations, there were 17,000. “Climbers are a free spirit group,” said Ricky Olivier. “I would say most climbers don’t want to simply deal with the bureaucracy to come in and out of the park. It’s not free to go where you want as it is in other climbing areas.” 

Kim Groebner sending the classic Baby Martini

The restrictions affected the local El Paso folks.  Jumping through the hoops to get into the park became a huge detriment to the families that wanted to picnic for the day or  walk around their local state park.  The number of local visitors decreased significantly.  The focus of the park changed. 

Park management wanted visitors to see the history of the park.  The park flexed its desire to show the amazing pictographs.  “When climbers get interested in the pictographs, they start to see the park in a whole new way,” said Superindentent Olszewski. “They realize that if all they’ve done here is climb, it’s like going to Disney world and riding one ride and going home. You’re not getting the whole picture.”

Kim Groebner hikes the chains

Two years ago, Mary Bocchicchio became the second rock art/climbing guide, and the only current one. The rock art changed her view of the park. “Now when I spend time in the park – I constantly think of those who came through hunting Mammoths or growing beans in the fields.”  She reiterated the park’s view on management. “Hueco Tanks is a HISTORIC site, first and formost. The #1 priority of the park and its staff is to protect the artifacts and pictographs that were left there by Native Americans from 150 to over 10,000 years ago.””

The Jornada mogollion were a Native American group that traveled the American Southwest from AD 150 to AD 1400 

Signs and posts driven into the rock, mark the few areas to protect the ancient history.  In some of the closed areas, a protective crust covers the ground keeping the archaeology intact.  The ground in areas like the Mushroom Boulder, which received enormous amounts of foot traffic and crash pad shuffling, eroded away and exposed midden soil, areas rich in Indian artificats and debris. In other areas like the famous 45 Degree Wall, ancient petroglyphs cover the rock.   

A Sign nailed into the rock above a boulder problem on North Mountain

“Human beings get attracted to the same sort of places over the course of time,” noted Oliewski. “Those exact same overhangs that are attractive for climbing because of the angle are the ones that people hung out underneath years and years ago prehistorically.”  In the Jackson article, Bill Dolman, who worked as part of the management team overseeing the TPWD restrictions implementation, reported on an archaeological study in late ninties “We found that because of the extent of (earlier) human occupation almost no part of the park did not have significant sub-surface archaeological resources.”

Honnold came out and hiked my project.  After seven weeks, I made it to the second hold. The next day we went climbing, he hiked Fern Roof.  After a couple hours, I sent the problem too.  "How hard do you think that is Alex?" I asked about the suspiciously soft V10. "Well, when I first did it, I called it V8.  Today, I thought it was more like V7," he responded. "but then after seeing you do it, I'd say it was more like V6."

Dollman also spoke about the TPWD official position. “Well the long and short of it is that we’ve come to the conclusion that the climbing needs to be managed to the extent that we can protect the archaeological and rock art resources.” Oliewski’s management of the park continues with the same idea of preservation first and climbing second, to treat Hueco as an “outdoor museum,” a stance that finds little favor with climbers.

White Devil pictograph

Ann Raber, a first year guide who has spent the winters climbing in Hueco since 2009,  voiced many climber’s concerns about the management program. “The park management pays a lot of lip service to climber's rights as a user group, but I can't shake the sense that there are people with a lot of say in the matter who want this place to be a museum, to be observed without touching.”

Jason Kehl, voiced a similar idea.  Kehl arrived in Hueco in 1995 and 1996, before the restrictions.  After the1998 changes, he stopped climbing in the park.  Kehl, now in his third year of guiding, returned a few years later when he heard the restrictions still allowed for climbing.   “I think the restrictions are bad for climbing, but good for Hueco Tanks. This is a special place besides the climbing and we must protect it.” 

Jason Kehl found this boulder problem a few years ago. Bloodlines sits in a corridor near the summit of North Mountain. Kehl has spear headed much of the new development in Hueco.

John Sherman “There had always been limitations on visitation and something had to be done,” Sherman said in the Jackson article. “For example, the base of the Three Star Arete used to be dirt; now it’s rocky. The desert root systems at Hueco are really shallow. Tromp too many people over them and they’ll die.” 

The restrictions, the decrease in climbers, helped much vegetation to regrow, for the thousand trails to become single destignated paths and the park to return to its natural state, certainly in the back country.  In unregulated bouldering areas like Bishop, California, climbers step in gum at the crag, dogs fight below popular areas, and overcongestion can be a huge problem.  These problems don’t exist in Hueco because of the restrictions.  These are the good parts about the restrictions.  There are also bad aspects.

Kim Groebner gets Nobody's Funky on East Mountain

The largest problem revolves around the park’s open and closing times and the back country guide program.  Temperatures and day light hours change dramatically over the course of the year but the 8 am to 6 pm park hours remain stagnant. Moses Potter, a first year guide and six year Hueco climber, added some of the problems with the guiding. “Were I to taste the climbing of Hueco for the first time under the current restrictions I would think the experience sucks, frankly. It can be very difficult to get in the park during peak season and during weekends, it costs $20 per day to climb off of North Mountain, which is prohibitively expensive for the shoestring-budgeted twenty-something, and you have to be able to negotiate the bureaucratic process in the front office. Having to leave the boulders by 5:30pm, so you can be clear of the locked gate by 6pm, is an added distraction from the experience. In short, the place lacks the kind of freedom that most of us climbers associate with the lifestyle of the climber.”

Moses Potter catches the sunset after working My Life in a Tank

Further, development in Hueco has been stifled to a great degree.  The necessity of going with a guide “stifles the freedom of exploration.”   “Newness and progression are important for any athletic pursuit,” said Potter, “and the stifling of that in Hueco is 100% due to the restrictions, not a dearth of quality rock or the strength of the climbers present.”

 

On my last day in Hueco, Nik Berry and I climbed the Melon Patch Extension- The two pitch route, Sea of Holes was established in the early Hueco days.  Mike Head and others used to regularly free solo this 5.10 route.  We climbed it on a cold morning.  Our finger froze grabbing the rock. Hueco's beginnings were on routes like this.  Now, seeing a roped climber is a rare sight.

At times, the park seems over enthusiastic about the regulations. This year at our Hueco Tanks State Park camp site, we received a notification threatening a fine if we parked off the pavement at our campsite.   While at the front desk, a group of rock art hunters came in for the 10:30 rock art tour.  They had driven past the entrance officer at the gate.  The front desk informed them they needed to return to the gate and check in with the entrance officer.  In fifteen minutes, they went to the gate and returned to the office.  The front desk person then asked them what they wanted to do.  When they told her they wanted to go to the 10:30 rock art tour, the group was informed that they had missed the tour by fifteen minutes and there would not be another until the following week.

One of the biggest draw for climbers was the Hueco Rock Rodeo. Every year, Melissa Strong and other locals organize a competition.  The Rodeo attracts climbers from across the globe and brought the largest crowds that we saw during out 7 week stay in Texas.

“That climbers are now arriving in search of something different is to be expected, and that my version of paradise is lost does not make their own less glorious,” said Todd Skinner.

Nik Berry reaches

I barely need my headlamp under the bright Texas moon.  I toe the edge of the campsite boundary.  To step forward would be to break the rules, to jeporadize access, to affirm TPWD’s position that the park should be an “outdoor museum.”   Stepping back would keep Hueco Tanks safe for another day.  Access would be secure until something happened, until another petroglyph was discovered or more artificats were found in the midden soil.  Stepping back would mean I could climb tomorrow.  Who knows about the next day.   Potter’s words about the restrictions echoed in my head, “These climbs are a precious resource, and the history of climbing is slowly being written out of Hueco Tanks. Once we lose Hueco, if we lose Hueco, we will have lost the standard by which all other bouldering in the world is compared.”

To move forward or move back?   I turn off my headlamp and step.