Last week I climbed my first 5.13b graded route. Translated into european sport grades, this equates to the magic 8a - a very long held ambition. Over the last eighteen months several people have asked me what I "do", to which I have given a wide variety of answers, usually complicated and often nuanced. But the very simplest version has always been: "I quit my job to try to climb 8a". So: it's done. "Now what?" would be a suitable question at this point - and I do feel a general review of life looming - but I'll write about that another time (or keep it private). What follows is all about the send.
Project Grizzly is on the Petrifying Wall ("Pet") at Murrin Park, 10 minutes south of Squamish. Though it gets four stars in the guidebook, and would probably be in the book's Top 100 list were the author not being modest (he did the first ascent in 2000), it is rare to see anyone on it. One reason may be that cams have to be plugged into a flake crack to reach the first bolt at about 8m and most people visit Pet for pure sport climbing. This section is shared with a long wandering 5.10 trad route, The Coffin, put up during the first wave of development at Pet in the 1980s. Several of those historic routes at Pet have been retro-bolted but not The Coffin, presumably because the first ascentionist won't acquiesce. Anyway, it is not a major inconvenience. The flake is only 5.9 at most and above is a small ledge where you can pause to get into sport climbing mode.
The next 18m is the meat of the route: granite face climbing up a gently-overhanging wall with no good rests. It starts fairly easily through a couple of overlaps on reasonable holds. A couple of crisp layaway moves then reach the start of a short rightwards traverse on a strip of very slick glacier-polished rock. This section, which only has only a couple of real handholds and just slopey ramps for the feet, initially seemed impossible and took me a long time to comprehend. Even after I had a semi-workable approach, I ended up scrapping it entirely in favour of something more efficient. By the time I started making serious redpoint attempts the movement felt totally solid; a very satisfying transformation. At the end of the traverse is a reach to a crimp rail in an overhanging bulge. The clip here, off the rail, is disconcerting as it feels like you may lose grip and backflip at any moment. For me the next move felt to be the hardest, a long dynamic grab for a distant sloper. Catching it accurately was key as there are only certain areas of texture that allow me to hold it.
From the sloper, you have to immediately transition into the route's weirdest and most technical move, a tenuous couple of high step-ups, with the left hand locked in an inverted chickenwing position on a small undercling. At the end of the movement the hand has to be dynamically unweighted and repositioned into a conventional undercling to allow the next clip to be made. One more awkward move follows, high-stepping on to the sloper whilst crossing through to a hidden undercut pocket. For me this pocket takes two fingers and feels very positive but other people, with whom I worked the route, didn't find it so useful. A long reach from the pocket gains the base of the "rest" block, a large feature creating a generous layback hold. This is the best hold on the route. Unfortunately it is pasted on an overhanging wall with modest footholds. For me it was sufficient to recover some crimp strength for the next few moves but hardly a good rest.
This very low quality video (my work, tripod mounted Olympus Pen camera) shows some of the moves up to the block:
From the block there is a long semi-dynamic reach out left to a crimp rail above a small overlap. This is another move that initially seemed impossible but eventually felt straightforward. Or so I thought. In fact, to my great surprise and irritation, I fell here on my penultimate redpoint try. Beyond are some slightly easier but powerful moves on small flakes on a kind of headwall above the overlap. The last move in this sequence is a cross-through to a large but perversely-bad sloper, which requires some careful body positioning to hold. During my successful redpoint burn, I came very close to falling here, I think as much because of whole body tiredness as fatigued arms.
Routes that involve a wide variety of climbing style are often deemed "classic". Up to this height, Project Grizzly deserves that label. However it is the last section that makes the route truly great - or a climber's nightmare! Above the headwall the angle kicks back to steep slab and there is a foothold allowing a good rest if you press your face into the rock to keep balance. The anchor chains are only about 4m above. Unfortunately, the rock is glacier-polished again and has almost no visible holds, except for one cruelly-minuscule rock horn at full stretch on which I could half-pad crimp with two fingers. I spent more time trying to figure out a reliable sequence for this "slab of doom" than on any other part of the route, even sending pestering emails to two people I knew who had done it.
My engagement with the Grizzly lasted almost two months in total, visiting the route about once per week initially. By about half-way through that period I believed I could do all the moves - if not actually link them or hold on long enough to clip - but was totally shut down by the final slab. One day I simply went to the top of the cliff alone and did nothing but attempt the slab. After an hour of tries I had got nowhere and pulled back up the rope. I was quite depressed and sat for a long while vacuously contemplating the view out over Howe Sound. I was on the point of abandoning the route but finally decided I should at least try in different shoes. I swapped my Muiras for stiffer 5.10 Anasazi Whites. Another hour later I had still not solved the problem, but had at least discovered that with the right hand crimping hard on the horn I could stem reliably on two unobvious footholds without slipping - yielding about half a meter of height gain! From there, for someone of my height a very smooth vertical edge is tantalising out of reach for the right hand, but any attempt to remove the right hand from the horn resulted in an immediate fall. Again I was about to give up, but quite instinctively (it seemed mad in theory) tried reaching through with my left hand instead to the edge. Amazingly, by forcing a big stretch in my left shoulder, I could just get a finger on to the edge in a gaston position, then rock up on to my right foot to secure the hold better. A very aesthetic move. From there two better hand holds came into reach and the slab mastered.
My psyche for the route rose exponentially with the knowledge that the slab was possible. A few days later I was back with some friends top-roping the whole route, hoping to demonstrate the new move. But I couldn't do it. Not even close. Any effort to reach up with the left hand caused an immediate fall. I tried on lead as well: again hopeless. I was totally mystified. Had I cheated subtly the one time I had done it? Had my solo top-rope rig helped me in some way? Two weeks after my first solo session I was back at the top again, with a newly-purchased micro-traxion, which allows solo top-roping with a slack'ish rope, so I could eliminate rope tension as a reason for success. Again I could do the move, indeed I did it three times in a row within a few minutes.
By this time I had the rest of the route sufficiently dialled that I had started redpoint attempts and was getting very gradually higher. 13th September: tried twice falling both times at the third bolt. 15th September: tried once falling at the fourth bolt. On the 18th I tried once, fell at the fourth bolt, but continued bolt-to-bolt to the top. This time surely I could at least pull the top move? No! Later that same day, I tried again on top rope and almost linked the whole route apart from one dumb error on the headwall. And then succeeded on the slab. So it seemed I could do the slab, but not on lead! The only plausible explanation was fatigue - that I needed to be as fresh as possible to lock off the horn whilst reaching for the gaston.
I took a day off on 19th September to rest. It felt risky as a storm was forecast then rain for weeks beyond. On the 20th September it was thankfully still dry though almost certainly the last possible day for the Grizzly in 2013. I persuaded my very reliable local friend Bob to come to Pet for a session. He has not climbed much this year so we warmed up on a couple of the easy trad cracks right by the Murrin parking lot. I top-roped one of the cracks multiple times eliminating holds. It was more fun than the rather earnest warmup pitches I had been doing normally, and I think helped reduce my redpoint stress considerably. I also felt strong. Back at the Grizzly I made my fifth redpoint try, getting all the way to the "rest" block for the first time. Surely the route was in the bag? But I fell at the lurch to the crimp rail. Was it too humid? Thirty minutes later I headed back up again for try #6. A gentle breeze appeared as I climbed the initial flake: an excellent omen. This time I made it past all the cruxes, on through the headwall to below the slab of doom. I rested a long time there, perhaps ten minutes. Then stepped up into the stem, crimped hard on the horn ... and couldn't move. Somehow I reversed back to the rest without slipping off and resumed the miserable face-against-the-wall rest. Defeat seemed inevitable. I had no more time for another redpoint that day and anyway had always felt burned out by two attempts on the route. What to do? Another age passed until Bob patiently noted the obvious: I may as well try again. A few seconds later I was back up, somehow got my finger to the gaston and my emotions switched in a instant from despair to elation. In another few moments I was at the chain.
POSTSCRIPT: All of this grade-chasing drama would be worth less were Project Grizzly not actually 8a! One local friend, when told I had done it, reached quickly for an old guidebook, noted that the route was "recent" and declared with a knowing smile that only the old routes at Pet had solid grades. However, the internet is supportive: aside from mine, there are six ascents of the Grizzly recorded at 8a.nu or Sendage.com, all at 8a/ 5.13b and none qualified with "soft". In contrast, Squamish's most popular 8a, Vultures Circling, also at Murrin Park, has been flagged as "soft" by several people. But time will tell.
Project Grizzly is on the Petrifying Wall ("Pet") at Murrin Park, 10 minutes south of Squamish. Though it gets four stars in the guidebook, and would probably be in the book's Top 100 list were the author not being modest (he did the first ascent in 2000), it is rare to see anyone on it. One reason may be that cams have to be plugged into a flake crack to reach the first bolt at about 8m and most people visit Pet for pure sport climbing. This section is shared with a long wandering 5.10 trad route, The Coffin, put up during the first wave of development at Pet in the 1980s. Several of those historic routes at Pet have been retro-bolted but not The Coffin, presumably because the first ascentionist won't acquiesce. Anyway, it is not a major inconvenience. The flake is only 5.9 at most and above is a small ledge where you can pause to get into sport climbing mode.
Project Grizzly: the features haunting me for two months!
The next 18m is the meat of the route: granite face climbing up a gently-overhanging wall with no good rests. It starts fairly easily through a couple of overlaps on reasonable holds. A couple of crisp layaway moves then reach the start of a short rightwards traverse on a strip of very slick glacier-polished rock. This section, which only has only a couple of real handholds and just slopey ramps for the feet, initially seemed impossible and took me a long time to comprehend. Even after I had a semi-workable approach, I ended up scrapping it entirely in favour of something more efficient. By the time I started making serious redpoint attempts the movement felt totally solid; a very satisfying transformation. At the end of the traverse is a reach to a crimp rail in an overhanging bulge. The clip here, off the rail, is disconcerting as it feels like you may lose grip and backflip at any moment. For me the next move felt to be the hardest, a long dynamic grab for a distant sloper. Catching it accurately was key as there are only certain areas of texture that allow me to hold it.
From the sloper, you have to immediately transition into the route's weirdest and most technical move, a tenuous couple of high step-ups, with the left hand locked in an inverted chickenwing position on a small undercling. At the end of the movement the hand has to be dynamically unweighted and repositioned into a conventional undercling to allow the next clip to be made. One more awkward move follows, high-stepping on to the sloper whilst crossing through to a hidden undercut pocket. For me this pocket takes two fingers and feels very positive but other people, with whom I worked the route, didn't find it so useful. A long reach from the pocket gains the base of the "rest" block, a large feature creating a generous layback hold. This is the best hold on the route. Unfortunately it is pasted on an overhanging wall with modest footholds. For me it was sufficient to recover some crimp strength for the next few moves but hardly a good rest.
This very low quality video (my work, tripod mounted Olympus Pen camera) shows some of the moves up to the block:
From the block there is a long semi-dynamic reach out left to a crimp rail above a small overlap. This is another move that initially seemed impossible but eventually felt straightforward. Or so I thought. In fact, to my great surprise and irritation, I fell here on my penultimate redpoint try. Beyond are some slightly easier but powerful moves on small flakes on a kind of headwall above the overlap. The last move in this sequence is a cross-through to a large but perversely-bad sloper, which requires some careful body positioning to hold. During my successful redpoint burn, I came very close to falling here, I think as much because of whole body tiredness as fatigued arms.
Routes that involve a wide variety of climbing style are often deemed "classic". Up to this height, Project Grizzly deserves that label. However it is the last section that makes the route truly great - or a climber's nightmare! Above the headwall the angle kicks back to steep slab and there is a foothold allowing a good rest if you press your face into the rock to keep balance. The anchor chains are only about 4m above. Unfortunately, the rock is glacier-polished again and has almost no visible holds, except for one cruelly-minuscule rock horn at full stretch on which I could half-pad crimp with two fingers. I spent more time trying to figure out a reliable sequence for this "slab of doom" than on any other part of the route, even sending pestering emails to two people I knew who had done it.
My engagement with the Grizzly lasted almost two months in total, visiting the route about once per week initially. By about half-way through that period I believed I could do all the moves - if not actually link them or hold on long enough to clip - but was totally shut down by the final slab. One day I simply went to the top of the cliff alone and did nothing but attempt the slab. After an hour of tries I had got nowhere and pulled back up the rope. I was quite depressed and sat for a long while vacuously contemplating the view out over Howe Sound. I was on the point of abandoning the route but finally decided I should at least try in different shoes. I swapped my Muiras for stiffer 5.10 Anasazi Whites. Another hour later I had still not solved the problem, but had at least discovered that with the right hand crimping hard on the horn I could stem reliably on two unobvious footholds without slipping - yielding about half a meter of height gain! From there, for someone of my height a very smooth vertical edge is tantalising out of reach for the right hand, but any attempt to remove the right hand from the horn resulted in an immediate fall. Again I was about to give up, but quite instinctively (it seemed mad in theory) tried reaching through with my left hand instead to the edge. Amazingly, by forcing a big stretch in my left shoulder, I could just get a finger on to the edge in a gaston position, then rock up on to my right foot to secure the hold better. A very aesthetic move. From there two better hand holds came into reach and the slab mastered.
My psyche for the route rose exponentially with the knowledge that the slab was possible. A few days later I was back with some friends top-roping the whole route, hoping to demonstrate the new move. But I couldn't do it. Not even close. Any effort to reach up with the left hand caused an immediate fall. I tried on lead as well: again hopeless. I was totally mystified. Had I cheated subtly the one time I had done it? Had my solo top-rope rig helped me in some way? Two weeks after my first solo session I was back at the top again, with a newly-purchased micro-traxion, which allows solo top-roping with a slack'ish rope, so I could eliminate rope tension as a reason for success. Again I could do the move, indeed I did it three times in a row within a few minutes.
By this time I had the rest of the route sufficiently dialled that I had started redpoint attempts and was getting very gradually higher. 13th September: tried twice falling both times at the third bolt. 15th September: tried once falling at the fourth bolt. On the 18th I tried once, fell at the fourth bolt, but continued bolt-to-bolt to the top. This time surely I could at least pull the top move? No! Later that same day, I tried again on top rope and almost linked the whole route apart from one dumb error on the headwall. And then succeeded on the slab. So it seemed I could do the slab, but not on lead! The only plausible explanation was fatigue - that I needed to be as fresh as possible to lock off the horn whilst reaching for the gaston.
I took a day off on 19th September to rest. It felt risky as a storm was forecast then rain for weeks beyond. On the 20th September it was thankfully still dry though almost certainly the last possible day for the Grizzly in 2013. I persuaded my very reliable local friend Bob to come to Pet for a session. He has not climbed much this year so we warmed up on a couple of the easy trad cracks right by the Murrin parking lot. I top-roped one of the cracks multiple times eliminating holds. It was more fun than the rather earnest warmup pitches I had been doing normally, and I think helped reduce my redpoint stress considerably. I also felt strong. Back at the Grizzly I made my fifth redpoint try, getting all the way to the "rest" block for the first time. Surely the route was in the bag? But I fell at the lurch to the crimp rail. Was it too humid? Thirty minutes later I headed back up again for try #6. A gentle breeze appeared as I climbed the initial flake: an excellent omen. This time I made it past all the cruxes, on through the headwall to below the slab of doom. I rested a long time there, perhaps ten minutes. Then stepped up into the stem, crimped hard on the horn ... and couldn't move. Somehow I reversed back to the rest without slipping off and resumed the miserable face-against-the-wall rest. Defeat seemed inevitable. I had no more time for another redpoint that day and anyway had always felt burned out by two attempts on the route. What to do? Another age passed until Bob patiently noted the obvious: I may as well try again. A few seconds later I was back up, somehow got my finger to the gaston and my emotions switched in a instant from despair to elation. In another few moments I was at the chain.
POSTSCRIPT: All of this grade-chasing drama would be worth less were Project Grizzly not actually 8a! One local friend, when told I had done it, reached quickly for an old guidebook, noted that the route was "recent" and declared with a knowing smile that only the old routes at Pet had solid grades. However, the internet is supportive: aside from mine, there are six ascents of the Grizzly recorded at 8a.nu or Sendage.com, all at 8a/ 5.13b and none qualified with "soft". In contrast, Squamish's most popular 8a, Vultures Circling, also at Murrin Park, has been flagged as "soft" by several people. But time will tell.
