The dude’s name turns out to be Isaac Duncan. He’s from Minneapolis, and his age is probably closer to 18 than 24 since he’s doing the precollege climbing road trip. His is a one-stop road trip. He plans to spend the summer climbing at Wild Iris, projecting 5.14’s on overhung limestone pockets. After his trip, Isaac will begin college at CSU in Fort Colins where he plans to study nursing. His speech is saturated with the word “sick” (used exclusively in the positive sense, mostly to describe the sharp monos and two-finger pockets he uses for dynos), and he doesn’t seem very worried about sunburn, climbing two days in a row in a tank top and refusing to reapply sunscreen because it would soften his skin. After perusing his blog dashboarddeities, we determined that he is definitely not a serial killer.
When we first agreed to climb with Isaac, my other big worry (other than the concern that he was a serial killer) was that I would lose my climbing partner, that Mico would realize he was much more compatible with Isaac in terms of climbing ability and the two would spend the summer climbing in Wild Iris and watching beautiful sunsets. I would have to choose between projecting their warmups and continuing on my own. In this paranoid scenario, I discounted, of course, the fact that we had to get up to Vancouver so Mico could make good on the grant he’d received to climb the Opal.
We’d been climbing for a few hours (Mico’d already sent the 5.13 featured in the video below), when these two dudes showed up on the trail. One of them exclaimed, “Dante!” and gave Mico a hug. Mico thought he recognized the guy from Tucson, but it turned out the guy was from City Climb. Mico introduced Isaac and me, and the guy introduced his attractive brother, Jessie, a bearded blond with a nose ring. The dudes continued on the trail. When they were out of earshot, Mico confessed that he couldn’t remember Jessie’s brother’s name. When we met up with them next, I did what my dad always asks me to do when we’re out surfing and somebody comes up and talks to him (my father has a poor ability to retain names). I introduced myself to the dude who turned out to be Will.
Will is in the process of moving to Denver with his girlfriend. Will joined us for the evening and climbing the next morning because his brother had to go back to work for NOLS, leaving him without a partner. Mico and I were feeling pretty good about ourselves–we were super popular, everyone seemed to want to climb with us. And, I mean, who could blame them? Here we are, two smart, charming, kind, patient, athletic, ridiculously good looking people. I’d want to hang out with us, but I digress.
We were feeling good, and that’s when I should have known it would go downhill. I was hanging out with all these strong climbers, who made 5.12 look like child’s play. I forgot that, while 5.12 is easy for them, I’m lucky if I can do all the moves on a 5.12. I am a 5.10 climber. Forgetting this, I decided I’d scamper up an 11b. I was struggling with the second move, so out of desperation I stuck two fingers in a rather tight, sharp pocket and tried to bump my foot higher. My foot slipped, and I was unable to extract my fingers from the pocket before I fell. Gravity and the pocket’s knife-like edge helped get my fingers out of the hold. Back on the ground, I realized that my ringer finger had been partially flayed.
Please excuse the rude gesture; all my injuries seem to be happening on the same hand. It was recommended that I call it quits for the day after my flaying, but I’d be damned if I’d listen to sensible advice. I had to prove I was tough. I got on a highly rated 10d called “The Devil Wears Spurs” and proceeded to cry, bleed, and apologize my way up the climb. If I were Mico, in that moment I would have seriously considered spending the summer with Isaac climbing on overhung limestone pockets.
Back at camp, after a tasty dinner of backcountry pizza, we discovered that our tub of knock-off Vaseline had been knocked over in the tent and escaped its container by turning into a liquid during the heat of the day.