I began climbing in the redwood grove outside my grandparents’ house in the Santa Cruz Mountains and rock hopping Strawberry Creek in Idyllwild, where my family has a rustic cabin from the turn of the century. I grew up hiking in the San Jacinto Mountains in back of that cabin in Idyllwild. When I was 5 or 6, I went up to the fire lookout tower on top of Tahquitz; then some years later my dad and I would take three days to hike San Jacinto peak, my first overnight hiking. My dad was a hiker, not a climber, so for my whole adolescence I had the best granite in Southern California in my summertime backyard, and never did I lay hand on it.
It was not until junior year at Princeton University that I took to climbing. When I returned from a semester studying at Central European University in Budapest, I had a few weeks back home in Claremont, CA before returning for second semester. I drove to Stoney Point with my Dr. Topo guide and a pair of Teva water shoes and tried my hand at the rock, knowing nothing about what I was doing. When I returned to Princeton I spent everyday at the Outdoor Action climbing wall. I bought my first pair of shoes, La Sportiva Cobras, at the University of Pennsylvania EMS, on sale. I took these and a tent to on a Greyhound bus for Princeton to Steele, Alabama spring break that year, hitchiking the last 12 miles to Horsepens 40 (HP-40) for Bouldergrass. This was my first real experience with a climber community and I couldn’t get enough.
Princeton at the time had an old plywood climbing wall in the ROTC armory, no mountaineering club, and a very small climbing community. Steve Andrews, Kris Kang, Alex Nees, Richard Lease, and I tried to change that in some small way. We vowed at the beginning of the year to climb Mt. Rainier before we graduated. It was a modest goal in the broader scheme of things, but significant enough for a rag tag group of students with no prior experience (except Alex who had worked at McDonalds for 3 months to pay for a 3 month NOLS trip in Patagonia).
That year we put to use what mountaineering tools we could scrounge from Outdoor Action (OA), which mostly consisted of a pair of steel ice tools that looked more like geology hammers, two pairs of crampons and four ice axes from the ’80s, snowshoes, and a general lack of concern for danger. That winter we did a 24 hour traverse of the Presidentials in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, including a summit on Mt. Washington, a snowshoe up Mt. Marcy in New York, and several ice climbing trips to the Catskills. Mind you, none of us actually knew how to ice climb. As with everything that year, we referred to our bible, Freedom of the Hills.
When spring finally came, we decided to learn how to lead climb. Kris Kang had been knocking out 5.12 sport leads in China and Thailand, but the rest of us had no clue what we were doing. So we grabbed the (very) old hexes and nuts in the OA equipment room, a rope, and went to the Delaware Water Gap. More success was had when Steve mustered up enough cash to buy a few cams and he and Richard immediately drove to the Gap and put them to use. We didn’t get very far that spring, but did manage to climb a few routes at the Gunks. For me it would be a few more years until I really learned how to properly climb.
Meanwhile, we were prepping for Rainier by scrounging together our gear. We appealed to Princeton alumni, but all we got was an offer to drive us from the airport to Rainier – we’ll take it. We found the cheapest of everything possible to make do. I bought a BD Raven ice axe and a Petzl Elios helmet from neice.com, gaiters, neon Scarpa Inverno plastic boots, and a Lowe Alpine snow jacket from eBay, and an assortment of other used gear from wherever we could find it. College students have a lot more time on their hands than money in their pockets, so we were very keen to grab the best deals. When Grivel G12 crampons showed up for $79 (!), we all bought a pair.
And so it was that just before graduation we set off to climb Disappointment Cleaver on Mt. Rainier. On our way up Muir Snowfield we encountered a white out, but Richard Lease and I plodded slowly along. When we reached the top, we learned that in the same storm a father and son had walked off the snowfield into a crevasse and died. Apparently it made national media, a fact we only learned upon our return and the relief expressed by our parents who thought it must have been us that had perished.
As the storm deposited a thick layer of fresh snow, the Cleaver was too much of an avalanche danger, so we opted for Ingraham Direct. RMI (the only guiding outfit on the mountain) let us beat the path all the way to the top – a rare opportunity to climb on fresh snow before the highway that leads up Rainier by the guides is gradually built over the season.
I moved to Tampa, FL after that and saw neither surf nor rock for a long time (except for a quick trip to Rock Town outside Atlanta and Obed Creek in Tennessee). I decided to go up the towering volcanoes of Ecuador by myself over Christmas. My colleague Elena, fearing for my safety, introduced me to her brother, Pavel, and we set out for these 20,000 foot behemoths. He put together a good account of our climbing in Ecuador.
A couple failed off-season attempts on Mt. Shasta, first with Pavel and later with some other Princeton friends, and some bitter cold days out, and I was ready to return to what I enjoyed the most: rock. I credit Alex Nees and Richard Lease for finally teaching me to climb properly. After Steve Andrews and I got shown up by Richard and his future wife, Karen, in Joshua Tree, we committed to get in shape. I led my first trad pitch up Royal Arches with Richard and Karen that summer in Yosemite, and followed up Nutcracker. i was addicted to granite from then on.
With Alex and Richard and Steve, we climbed a bunch of routes in Yosemite, the Sierras, and finally, all together, in Tahquitz, back where I grew up.
Last year, I moved to Kenya and had my first experience with climbing routes no one had climbed before, not out of vanity, but out of necessity. While the area surrounding Nairobi was developed over the last 40 years by Iain Allan and others, Western Kenya was never touched. While the boulders stretching between Kisumu and Mt. Elgon are fun, they are short and often surrounded by thicket. However, at Sangalo Rocks, I put up two one-pitch trad routes that are up a spectacular series of granite cracks.
And now I am travelling by boat throughout Indonesia. As it is mostly limestone, I have only a rope and set of draws, but would love to know where to go!