Friday, September 26, 2014

Climbing Things in California

Proper rock climbing gear at Panorama, ON.
Note I am wearing a helmet.
I started rock climbing about 11 or 12 years ago and though I don't do it as often as I'd like, I've never lost the yearning to climb new heights and see what lies beyond the summit. 

Fake-climbing at Pinnacles.
Not far off the ground. Really!

Every time I travel anywhere I do my research to see what's nearby that I can climb or scramble up to see some landscapes.

On this last California road trip with Clem, I didn't realize exactly HOW important to him it was that we hike at Pinnacles. I was mainly concerned with visiting Big Sur, the long-time nature haunt of notorious American writer Henry Miller, and annual retreat of my late thesis advisor.

Henry Miller in his Library.
Pfeiffer trail at Big Sur











I recall sending Clem a link about Pinnacles thinking "maybe if we had time." He had discovered the newly-minted national park of volcano cores on his own, however, and was hellbent on spending enough time there to get some decent height.

Getting some decent height.
I'm actually really high up - this was a scramble!
Climbing a stump - for now...


 On the way up we had to pass through a cool tunnel and had some fun taking shots and experimenting with lighting - or at least I had fun while Clem got frustrated trying to teach me about the subtlety of lighting while I was focussed on the more ham-fisted task of framing a shot. So much to learn about everything!

Lights, camera, action!
This shot turned out pretty well,
after I drove him crazy trying to get the lighting just so.
 The calm, cool and collected rockstar!






















Never mind the views: the rock formations themselves were incredible - spires standing on their own, giant faces and heads strangely formed by wind and erosion.



Here and there I spied the glint of silver bolts screwed into the faces and saw some traces of chalk and worn belay stations where climbers had been.


There are bolts on the rock face behind me.
Below is a worn spot, clearly a belay station.
We braved a few rock faces - Clem took on one wall in a way that sent my heart racing.

Climbing a bolted route freestyle - gulp!






"Get down," I panicked.

"I'm FINE," he snarled.









I resolved to get him connected with the Manila climbing community to learn to climb properly since he seems vertically inclined anyway...



Winding our way around and up, we finally came to a place of endless views.



And yet there was an even higher ridge to climb. Steps had been carved into the rock and flanked with metal railings securely fastened into the rock. 



On the way down, we were startled to see giant rectangular wings tipped with red drifting on the wind. "Condors!" said Clem. Indeed, they were, circling high, keeping to a particular ridge above us. Every time I glimpsed one and reached for my camera, they drifted out of sight. Finally we rounded a switchback to a flat area under a mercifully cool overhang of rock. Clem lay down and was almost instantly asleep. I sat back, camera poised to capture a condor, but I couldn't fight the sleep anymore either.

Extreme napping: on the edge!
We napped until a noisy family woke us up and we continued our descent. By this time we were out of water and it was still very hot. We resolved to take no more photos on the way down since we'd taken so many on the way up but of course failed miserably.

A musician with his head in the clouds but both feet firmly on the ground.
The best kind!

Finally we returned to the entrance and were happy to rest our feet but exhilarated for the experience of such an incredible landscape. We grabbed sugary pop and salty junk food to revive our energy and hit the road again. This time, Solvang: a little bit of Denmark in SoCal...


Next: books, shoes and Danishes.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Hiking at Pinnacles: The art of being THERE

Good grief, I wandered off and forgot to finish blogging about my one and only week's vacation this summer! Where on earth did summer go? It's only mid-September and we've already had a first frost.
The summer flew by but I'm determined to record the rest of my week in that mosquito-free paradise known as...California.
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After watching the waves crash on the beach of Carmel by the Sea and fade away with the cloud-covered sunset, Clem and I drove in darkness toward Pinnacles National Park. I had hoped to stay at least in some sort of building but my adventurous friend was hellbent on getting as close to the Park entrance as possible that very night to maximize our time on the trail the next day.

We made it to a remote and desolate town called Soledad, located near a maximum security prison on the flattest landscape I'd seen since leaving the Canadian prairies. At a 24 hour McDonald's, we charged our phones and made good use of internet access, then resigned ourselves to sleeping in the car. I never realized California could be so cold at night in July. We had one fleece blanket between us, which Clem gallantly gave to me as I stretched out on the back seat while he scrunched himself awkwardly behind the wheel, one leg hooked over the shift stick. Towards dawn, I awoke to find him shivering, so I gave him the blanket for at least some warmth before our appointed departure at 6:00 a.m.


Woulda been more comfy to sleep here....
...than scrunched up in the car.
We were at the Park entrance by 7:30 a.m. on the nose, and on the trail by about 8. By then the morning fog had dissipated and the sun was already mounting. After tending to sunscreen and water, we hit the trail.



High Peaks Trail was our chosen route. Clem's agenda: get high. So we did. Up, up, and up. Each corner we turned yielded amazing views of rocks and vistas beyond imagination. Then we turned another corner and the view was even more amazing. We had to fight our camera-happy instincts to cover ground so we wouldn't still be on the trail after dark.



My friend and hiking mentor Debora Voth once remarked as we walked through the verdant forest of the West Coast Trail, that we should remember this beautiful place so that we can return to it in our memories when we're at work imprisoned in our offices. She didn't say 'imprisoned' but that's how I think of it. The idea is to remember that there are still beautiful places out there where we once stood and walked and saw with our own eyes. I feel imprisoned when I can't physically BE in these places. There's more to life than concrete and glass, monitors and keyboards, ugly carpeting and office chairs. So I always take a photo of myself situated in these places so I never forget: I was THERE.

Clem being there.
Next...Climbing Things.