Climbing at Rogers Rock: Little Finger (5.5)

(Photo: View of Rogers Rock from Lake George.)



I have long dreamt of rock climbing in the Adirondacks.



But until recently I could never work it out to climb up there at all. It has always seemed impractical. It is too far for a day trip from NYC. And when I get the opportunity for several days of climbing in a row, I always end up picking more glamorous destinations that are further away, like Red Rocks.



This summer, however, I finally got my chance.



My wife's good friend Greg has owned a house on Lake George for the past few years, and we planned a weekend in early July when my family could visit his family there.



As we prepared for this visit, I tried to sell Greg on the idea of climbing with me up the classic 500 foot, three-pitch route Little Finger (5.5), which ascends Rogers Slide, the slabby east face of Rogers Rock. The route would be easy for us both, I told him.



I was really psyched about climbing in such a beautiful setting, on a cliff that rises straight out of the lake. Another bonus is that the route requires an approach by boat. I knew that Greg owns a small motorboat so I thought this would be easy for us to manage as well. I figured it would be a quick ride to the cliff from his house near Bolton's Landing. We could tie up the boat, run up the route, and be be back before our wives and children even noticed we were gone.



Over the months during which I've been proposing this little adventure, Greg has made supportive noises, but I wasn't sure he was entirely serious about doing the climb with me until just before our visit. I told Greg I had a harness, a helmet and a belay device for him, but that if we were going to do the climb he'd need to get some climbing shoes. I was thrilled when he actually went to Paragon and bought a pair of La Sportivas. I could hardly believe it. We were really in business.



Now as you may have gathered, Greg is not a climber, although he has worn a harness before, and has even belayed a few times in a gym setting with an ATC. Prior to our day on Rogers Rock he'd never climbed outside.



When I talked up the climb to Greg, I always emphasized how safe we'd be. I told him he'd always be on toprope, and that I'd build super-safe anchors for us. I also told him that this climb was very easy and that there was basically no way that I would call upon him to catch me falling on it.



I said these things because I wanted him to feel like doing this route with me would be a safe, reasonable thing to do. So I had a selfish interest in saying them: I wanted Greg to agree to do the climb. But I wasn't trying to sell Greg a bill of goods. I really did believe the climb would be easy for us. It is 5.5, after all.



The only hint of concern I had at the back of my mind as I reassured Greg was that Rogers Rock features slab climbing, which is not my strong suit. I have very little experience in slab and I don't feel very secure in the discipline. But the guidebook says that Little Finger is not typical of the slab routes on Rogers Slide, in that it follows a vertical crack which provides great pro and positive holds.



With that information I felt fine about our prospects.



When our weekend visit arrived, it looked like we were going to have perfect conditions. It was rainy towards the end of the week but the forecast was good for both Saturday and Sunday. I proposed that we climb on Sunday so as to have the best chance for dry rock; also we could plan out our logistics on Saturday and prepare. The day before the climb I had Greg try on my spare harness, and I gave him a quick primer on making sure the harness was doubled back. Then I gave him a refresher on belaying with the ATC and told him the few things he'd have to remember on the climb:



1. Feed me enough rope-- do not pull me off of the rock!



2. Never let go of the brake strand.



3. Do not take me off the belay until I say "off belay."



4. DO NOT DROP YOUR ATC!!



After just a little practice I felt like we were good to go.





(Photo: approaching Rogers Rock by boat in the early morning)



We got an early start on Sunday, leaving the Bolton's Landing area by 6:30 a.m. I wanted to get there early to make sure we were the first party on the wall, and to ensure we didn't take up too much of the day.



There was a slight wrinkle that arose from the fact that I know nothing about boats.



I was assuming Greg and I would just park the motorboat somehow and leave it at the base of Rogers Rock. It turns out that this is impractical. Typically people approach by canoe or rowboat and pull the boat up onto the small bit of land that sits at the base of the cliff. Greg's motorboat is too heavy for that, and apparently-- who knew??-- if there is no place to moor the boat it can't just be left unattended at the base. So Greg's wife Peggy had to get up early to drive us in the boat to the rock. (Sorry, Peggy.)



We left our return plan tentative. Luckily there is pretty good (Verizon) cell phone coverage at Rogers Rock. We decided we'd call Peggy later and tell her whether we were going to rappel (meaning we'd need a pick-up by boat) or top out and walk around to the campground (requiring pick-up by car). Greg and Peggy had both heard from locals that people usually top out and walk off after climbing Rogers Rock. Greg preferred the idea of walking off to rappelling, but I was skeptical that topping out would be practical from Little Finger. This idea about walking off was just one of several things they had heard from neighbors about climbing on Rogers Rock, and I didn't have to climb on the rock to know some of the other things they'd heard were false. For instance, they had also been told that the whole route is protected by fixed pitons, a notion I knew to be ridiculous.



I read in the guidebook that the original Little Finger route had gone all the way up, and I saw from the topo that some other less-frequently climbed routes on Rogers Slide do actually top out. But I also knew that Little Finger as it is now typically done stops after three pitches, well short of the top. It is unmarked in the guidebook past the rap anchor atop pitch three. I told Greg that if I saw an obvious scramble to the top I was all for it, but I suspected we'd be rapping off.



The water was calm as we approached Rogers Rock and we had no trouble jumping out of the boat and onto the rocks at the base with my big backpack. I quickly got my rack and ropes out and tossed my pack back into the boat. ("You have to bring all that crap with you?" Peggy asked.) And then, after a tiny bit of engine trouble, Peggy motored away and we were alone at the base of the cliff.





(Photo: My inexperienced but totally trustworthy partner Greg. Reader, I belayed him.)



The start of Little Finger is easy to find. A little to the right of center of the huge slab, the unmistakable vertical crack of Little Finger seems to rise forever. As I stood there beneath it, the angle seemed reasonable and the crack looked very positive. I was very excited to get going. (Peggy later said that in the boat I'd seemed like "a kid in a candy store.")





(Photo: Trying to look heroic at the base of the climb. You can see the vertical crack of Little Finger rising just to my left.)



The first pitch is only 5.4. It is long, though: 180 feet. The guidebook claims, accurately, that after some early difficulties, the angle and the climbing ease as you head up to the anchor.



As I ascended the early bits, I felt a little tentative. A number of things were roaming around in my brain.



I didn't want to burden Greg with too much gear removal, so I tried to limit the amount of pro that I placed, and I avoided placing many nuts. It killed me to eschew the nuts, since the route follows a vertical crack. So I had to place a few. This climb eats nuts! But I tried my best to avoid it. And since I was placing mostly cams, I had to run it out a bit in order to conserve them, which made even easy moves seem serious.



Also, the fall I'd taken just the previous Tuesday on Ground Control (5.9) in the Gunks couldn't help but enter my mind. My confidence was a little shaken, and the two fingers I'd sprained on my right hand were still rather swollen. I tried not to use them. On such easy climbing it was usually no problem, but it still required some mental effort.



Finally, I don't think I was climbing the route terribly well. I'm sure I could have pasted one foot on the slab at all times and comfortably walked up the stupid thing. Instead, since even easy slab climbing scares the crap out of me, I basically crack-climbed it, keeping my hands and feet in the crack almost all the time. This forced my body into positions that, while secure, were likely more awkward than necessary.



Eventually, I just admitted to myself I was a little nervous, stopped and placed a cam, and rested. Then I got over it, resumed climbing, and everything was fine.





(Photo: Looking down pitch one of Little Finger (5.5).)



As I neared the first belay station, at a slightly lower-angled scoop in the rock, I began to really enjoy the climb and the beautiful surroundings. The rock was good and the view was spectacular. There was pro available in the vertical crack pretty much whenever I might want it. The day was pleasant, sunny and not too hot.



I reached the belay and found a fixed cordelette tied to a nut and a couple pitons. I used this station as one leg of a three-piece anchor, adding two cams of my own to make the anchor crazy-solid.



"Greg," I shouted. "I'm off belay."



I watched as Greg took the ropes out of his ATC.



Then he violated rule number 4.



"Uh oh, I dropped the ATC!"



Oh crap.



I envisioned bringing him up and having to give him my device, and then belaying him with a Munter hitch for the rest of the climb. Then I'd have to take the device back, lower him off from the top of the climb, and rap down to him...



"Can you reach it?" I asked. "Did it go in the lake?"



"It didn't go in the lake, but I can't reach it."



We had only about ten feet of rope left to play with, and it wasn't enough for him to walk down to where the ATC was sitting. I had tied Greg in; he didn't know how to tie a rewoven figure eight knot for himself. I didn't see a safe way for him to escape the system and retrieve the device. I was about to tell him to just forget about the device when he came up with the obvious solution.



"I'm going to get out of the harness for a sec and go grab it."



This was perfect. He knew how to double his harness back; he'd done it himself already before we got started. I knew I could trust him to do it right.



Once he got the device and put his harness back on, he did fine. He climbed the pitch and removed all the gear, looking for all the world like someone with much more experience. No falls or hangs.



Pitch two was shorter, 140 feet, with a 5.5 bulge not far off the anchor. Probably I was just more relaxed, but this pitch seemed easier than the first one to me, and Greg felt the same way. I even busted out a few slab moves on this pitch. The early bulge was easily surmounted and then lower-angled climbing led to a small stance below a roof, where there is no fixed gear. I built a three-piece gear anchor in a couple good cracks.





(Photo: Looking down pitch two of Little Finger (5.5).)



Again Greg had no trouble following the pitch or cleaning my gear.



As he followed pitch two I looked at the pitch three alternatives. The usual finish to the climb heads right from the second belay, continuing to follow the vertical crack, diagonally avoiding the roof, and then heading up to the finish. It is another long pitch of 5.5, 180 feet.



The original finish heads straight up over the roof instead of heading right. It is a more difficult alternative, rated 5.7+. The guidebook describes this as the best pitch on Rogers Slide, and says it is well-protected. Once over the roof the pitch heads straight up and eventually moves right to the same finishing anchor employed by the 5.5 finish.



I was aware that some leaders will place a piece at the overhang as a "French free" alternative for partners who are not up to free-climbing the overhang. The second can then pull on the gear to get through the crux. I felt sure we'd have no problem with the roof pitch, but I decided not to push Greg. He was doing very well, and seemed to be hiding any fear he was feeling, but I wanted him to finish the day with an air of accomplishment, not failure. 500 feet of 5.5 was probably a big enough test for him today.





(Photo: View of Lake George from the top of pitch two of Little Finger (5.5).)



So I told Greg I thought we should just do the 5.5 regular finish, and he seemed relieved.



It turned out that the first part of the third pitch, even when you go the easier 5.5 way, is still the crux of the whole route. There is a traverse on good but slabby feet (the mental crux) and then a couple steep steps up (the physical crux) before the angle eases again, leading to cruiser climbing to the finish.



There isn't too much gear for the traverse, but I tried to place as much as I could. I warned Greg about the swing potential. There is bomber gear before you move much sideways (I think I placed two pieces after I left the belay), and then it is a couple steps to the end of the overhang on the right before you get anything again. Before moving upwards through the physical crux moves you can get a great cam over your head. After those moves it is an enjoyable romp up the rest of the way to the bolted final anchor.



I could tell as I was doing the crux moves that this part of the climb might be tough for Greg, so I tried to talk to him about exactly what I was doing as I did it, and pointed out some of the holds I was using.



Once I reached the anchor I could no longer see Greg down below the roof, so I could only cross my fingers and wait. As he began the pitch I breathed easier with each inch of rope I pulled in. After a couple minutes he shouted up that he thought he might fall, but as I looked down I was relieved. I could see his hand, which meant he'd cleared the traverse, so even if he fell there wouldn't be any dangerous swinging. He'd fall a foot or two at most.



And as it turned out he didn't fall. He managed to pull through the crux and finish the climb without a single fall or hang. And, even more amazing to me, we didn't leave any stuck gear. Greg was a great partner. I'd take him along again on a climb in a heartbeat.





(Photo: rapping off.)



From the bolts atop pitch three I could tell there was no easy way to the summit. Up above was a big overhang. It wasn't too far to a bushy gully on the right end of the slab, but it did not appear to me that there was a trail over there.



Once Greg joined me at the anchor, however, I thought it was worth a look, so I had him put me back on belay and I went right to the gully just to check it out. I found a lot of loose rock on the little ledges heading over to the gully. And once at the gully I saw that it is very steep with enormous exposure. It would not be at all difficult to slip and fall hundreds of feet. With no obvious trail to the summit in sight, I went back to the belay and told Greg I thought we should call the wives and tell them to pick us up by boat. We would be rapping off.



And even though rappelling wasn't Greg's first choice, I think it was the much more convenient escape, and a much sexier one besides. Three double-rope raps to the lakefront and a waiting motorboat? That is some serious James Bond action! It sure beats a slog down a long, hot trail to a parking lot.



Later that day at Greg's local beach on the lake, his neighbors seemed shocked and delighted that we'd actually climbed Rogers Rock just like we said we would. Greg too seemed to have had a positive experience. I don't think Greg's climbing shoes will be seeing too much more use, however. He repeatedly described the climb as something he's really happy to be able to say he did once, and only once.



I told him our next target should be Deer Leap, another cliff on Lake George that the guidebook authors describe as the "biggest chosspile in the Adirondacks." With an endorsement like that, how can we resist?

Greetings from California – Again!

It was a roundabout route, but I made it back to California on June 5th and have been visiting with my first cousin, David, who lives in Southern California. The last time I saw Dave was in the spring of 1992 when the company I worked for sent me to Los Angeles for some computer training. He said I don't come to see him very often! But I've seen him every year I've been to California since he moved out here! Anyway, it has been great seeing Dave again after all these years!


And now, I'm going to Jamboree! I'm so excited that I'll be able to meet some of my fellow genea-bloggers. Of course I'm planning to attend "a few" of the sessions too! It's not my first conference but it will be my first Jamboree. I remember last year wishing I could be there. It looked like everyone was having so much fun and I'll admit to being a little envious, but not this year 'cause I'll be there!

After Jamboree, I'll play “ketchup” with a few posts on where I was during the last week of May and the first week of June... Coral Pink Sand Dunes (again!), the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, Lee's Ferry, Lake Powell. No big adventures though; mostly just taking is easy.

Millbrook: Westward Ha! (5.7) & Cruise Control (5.9)

(Photo: Just above the final crux of Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Millbrook is a cliff with a fearsome reputation.




Unlike the other large cliffs at the Gunks, Millbrook has no easy access. A hike of at least three miles is required to approach the cliff. Once there, you have to rap in from above to get to the climbs. All of the climbs start from a narrow, sloping shelf popularly known as the "Death Ledge." Above this Death Ledge is a rotten band of rock; many of the climbing routes negotiate crumbly, loose territory for the first thirty to forty feet. And even if you survive the rotten band, you aren't out of the woods. The climbs at Millbrook are steep, difficult, and often poorly protected. 5.11 X is a common rating at Millbrook.




This is a serious cliff. You need to have a good idea of your limits before you go there. When you climb at Millbrook, you will likely be climbing alone. If something goes wrong, help is going to be hard to come by.




Does this sound like fun to you?




And yet the cliff has very attractive qualities as well. For starters, it is the highest, whitest, most impressive cliff at the Gunks. You might not notice it so much from New Paltz but if you spend any time in the area to the south, in Gardiner, for example, you can't help but feel its presence. We've rented a house on Bruynswick Road, which parallels the ridge, and every time I've driven down to this house from the north, following the road past all the major cliffs, I've been struck by how Millbrook looms over the area in the most appealing and inviting way. It is a beautiful, solemn place.




And there are great climbs at Millbrook. Not just hard man test-pieces (of which there are many), but also great moderates (or so I've been told). The introductory Millbrook route, right at the center of the cliff (next to the rappel tree), is Westward Ha!, a climb some consider to be the best 5.7 in the Gunks. Just to the right of Westward Ha! is a classic 5.9 called Cruise Control. Another reputed classic 5.9, Realm of the Fifth Class Climber, is down at the southern end of the cliff. And there are more, a handful of 5.7 to 5.9 climbs that I hear are well-protected and well worth doing, along with several world-class 5.10's and 5.11's that have reasonable pro.




Above all, Millbrook offers solitude, mystery, and the unknown, things which are in short supply at the other major cliffs at the Gunks. Millbrook provides a chance to get away from the same crowded routes you did yesterday and to step into what feels like a real alpine adventure.




Until this past weekend I'd never been climbing at Millbrook. I've been really wanting to go lately, intrigued by Christian Fracchia's website The White Cliff, which has wonderfully detailed topo photos of the whole cliff, along with updated route information that is more precise than what you'll find in any of the official guidebooks. I contacted Chris when I started thinking about climbing at Millbrook, and he gave me great advice about potential routes to climb and how best to reach them.




This past Sunday seemed like a good day to go. Clear skies and cool temperatures made for perfect conditions for hiking out to the cliff. Gail was willing to troop out there with me. I hoped we could knock off the two most obvious candidates, Westward Ha! (5.7) and Cruise Control (5.9), and still have time to maybe hit another moderate like The High Traverse (5.8 with the variation finish) or Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9), mentioned above.









(Photo: On the trail to Millbrook, with Skytop visible in the distance.)




Dick Williams suggests in his guidebook that the hike out to Millbrook will take about an hour. For us the trip was uneventful but it took longer than that. We were slowed a bit by a lot of wetness on the trail, which I guess was a remnant of some heavy rain that fell a few nights before. The hike is perfectly pleasant, and I bet it is quite beautiful in late May/early June when the mountain laurel is in bloom.









(Photo: The rap tree is dead, Fred! What do we do now?)




Once we dead-ended into the Millbrook Mountain Trail and followed it to the cliff's edge, we had no trouble winding our way down to find the traditional rappel tree atop Westward Ha! Unfortunately, however, this tree is 100 percent deceased, as in dead, i.e. finished. This was a shock to us because everyone apparently still uses the dead tree! I don't know how long it has been this way but man, it is over and has been for a while. The tree is a black hulk. We briefly considered using it anyway, since it is such a huge tree, and it is unlikely to fail under body weight for quite a while. But it gave me the willies. I did not feel good about the idea of using it.




Looking around, we saw other rappel options, so it was easy for us not to use the dead tree. We found two trees that were decent-sized and very much alive, about 30 or 40 feet left (south) of the Westward Ha! rappel. These trees are also maybe 20 or 30 feet higher than the dead tree, but I was confident my 60 meter rope would still reach the Death Ledge, since I knew the rap from the dead tree was only 150-160 feet to the ledge.









(Photo: Rapping over the steepness that is Millbrook.)




I leaned out over the lip from our improvised rappel station to check the rap; it appeared to be a sheer drop to the ledge. It did not seem that there were any obstacles and I was more or less certain that the rope would reach. I also felt entirely sure that we would have no trouble climbing a 5.7 route to get off of the cliff. We would not be trapped down there. Still, I felt very nervous. It took a leap of faith to back my ass off the cliff and descend into the unknown. But this whole adventure was my idea, so I had to be the first one to go. I set up my rappel and off I went.









(Photo: The obvious corner of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




Once we both got down without incident, it was very easy to find the prominent corner ascended by Westward Ha! (5.7). And although the Death Ledge wasn't huge, the shelf was flat and wide enough at this part of the cliff for us to move around without fear that we were about to slip off of it and tumble to the talus some 70 or 80 feet below. (Nevertheless we stayed anchored while on the ledge.)









(Photo: Getting started on Westward Ha! (5.7).)




I had read that you could take any of several independent little lines up the first forty feet of the route to reach the prominent corner system. I could see that the path on the left looked the easiest, ascending blocky flakes all the way to the corner. But I guessed that this collection of flakes also contained a bunch of loose crap, giving this part of the route its reputation for bad rock. So I decided to go to the right, up a line that appeared to have obvious holds and solid rock, leading to a leftward traverse to the big corner.









(Photo: Gail coming up the right-hand start to Westward Ha!, which has nice climbing, good rock, and pretty good pro.)




I thought this part of the route had decent climbing, though the final moves left to the ledge seemed a bit thin to me for 5.7 and required the use of a fragile crimper hold. If this crimp breaks off, I think this start will be much harder than 5.7 in the future. Once I reached the tree at the base of the big corner I decided to stop and belay Gail from there. The short first pitch would cut down on drag and allow us to do the whole rest of the climb in one pitch. Gail agreed that the right hand start was a little stiff for 5.7.









(Photo: In the final moves up the pretty white face at the top of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




We found the rest of Westward Ha! to be superb. The corner is sustained, with one fine move after another. A crack goes up the back of the corner for most of the way, so pro is frequently available, and you can jam if you wish, although there are plenty of edges so it isn't necessary.




From the top of the corner you emerge at the crux of the route, thin moves up an attractive white face. Again the pro is there and the moves are great, and then before you know it you're at the top.




Westward Ha! is a very very nice 5.7. I would not call it the best 5.7 in the Gunks, because to me it lacks the mind-blowing standout moments that you'll find on the very best climbs, like, say, Thin Slabs Direct or CCK. Westward Ha! doesn't really have any one outstanding moment or section, though the whole thing is quite good. I enjoyed it immensely and thought it was well worth the walk. And I would do it again the same way, with the short pitch at the bottom, followed by a longer pitch with all of the great climbing in it.




Back on top of the cliff, it was already late for lunch. We had a bite and then rapped back down to check out Cruise Control (5.9). Like Westward Ha!, this climb is easy to find. If you continue walking right (north) just a short distance from Westward Ha!, maybe thirty feet or so, stepping over a boulder that is resting against the cliff face, you will quickly come to a spot below a small, left-facing corner in orange rock that leads up to a groove/shallow open book. The open book then trends up and right to a roof. This is Cruise Control.




It looked good to me. I had wondered earlier in the day if, when push came to shove, I would feel up to a 5.9 on Millbrook. Before we started Westward Ha!, I was so nervous, worrying about how the rock would feel, and about whether we were really equipped to deal with the climbing at this cliff. I did not want us to exceed our limits. But once we completed Westward Ha! these concerns melted away. The rock felt fine. The climbing was familiar. I knew I could handle leading a Gunks 5.9, and Cruise Control was supposed to be on the easy side of the grade. This was going to be no problem.




The first pitch was a great pleasure. The moves up the initial corner are nice, and the rock quality through the rotten band seemed fine to me. I can't remember any terrible looseness. Then the crux climbing comes at a technical sequence up the shallow open book. The left side of the book forms a beautiful layback flake with solid pro. By the time I was through this sequence I was already telling Gail how wonderful the pitch was, and I hadn't even reached the roof.




The overhang adds another cool dimension to the pitch. It is a solid 5.8+/5.9- affair, again with great gear. After you pull over it the pitch romps up easy territory to a pedestal where there are good cracks for a gear anchor. (You could also continue to the next shelf.)









(Photo: Pulling over the roof on pitch one of Cruise Control (5.9).)




As I prepared for pitch two, I thought the real business of the climb was over. The second pitch is 5.8, and I assumed the groove and roof on pitch one were the main attractions of the climb. I didn't expect much out of the second pitch.




Boy was I wrong. The second pitch of Cruise Control is amazing.




It starts up the obvious right-facing corner that rises above the belay ledge. But after 20 or 30 feet you need to traverse around the corner to the left and onto the face of the cliff. I placed a good nut while still in the corner but felt obligated to sling it really long to avoid the prospect of horrendous drag.




Peering around the corner, I could see good little footholds. But I was blind as to the hands, and the face above looked blank. Would there be any placements out there? Dick Williams rates this pitch as 5.8 G. That would seem to indicate that there must be pro out there, right?




Making the commitment and stepping out onto the face was spectacular. I found myself on a gorgeous white billboard beneath a small ceiling. The rock was solid and I could see the path up and left. The climbing here was easier than 5.8.




But there wasn't any pro. I spied a wide horizontal at the top of the billboard, at the overlap. I hoped my largest cam, a big blue Camalot, would fit. I moved up, easy does it, one exquisite move and then another. Staying focused. By the time I reached the overlap I was surely well into R-rated territory. A fall at that point would have been a long, sideways, swinging affair.




I tried to place the blue Camalot. It was tipped-out and biting into mud in the crack. Not good at all.




What to do? Maybe the blue cam would fit better if I moved it further to the left, off-line?




Looking around, I realized I'd fallen victim to tunnel vision. There was a vertical crack system just above me running upward, the continuation of the route. But in my fixation on the wide horizontal crack I hadn't even seen it. I could get a great cam or nut right over my head. I threw a yellow Alien in the vertical crack and exhaled.




Everything was going to be fine.









(Photo: Topping out on Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Just then, as I breathed a sigh of relief and looked upward, I saw a human head peek out from the top of the cliff.




"Chris, is that you?"




It was! I had told Fracchia I was headed out to Millbrook and he showed up (with his sheepdog) to see how I liked it and to snap a few photos.




While he got set up to shoot I climbed through the physical crux of the pitch, up the fun crack system through another overlap and on to the top. As I finished the climb Chris got the nice photos you see here. Then we hung out and chatted while Gail climbed the pitch. When she topped out she too was thrilled with the awesomeness of the second pitch of Cruise Control.




I think Cruise Control is one of the best moderate climbs in the Gunks. The first pitch is great, and the second is stupendous. If you are cool with the 5.9 climbing on pitch one then the runout on pitch two through easier territory shouldn't bother you too much. But I do think Dick's 5.8 G rating for the second pitch is misleading. It should be something like 5.8 G (5.6+ R).




When we finished Cruise Control it was already mid-afternoon and we figured that including time spent packing up and walking, it would be at least another hour and a half before we'd reach the car. We thought about trying to do one more pitch but decided to call it a day instead. This turned out to be the right call, as I was really drooping by the time we finished the hike back to civilization. After four pitches of climbing and three hours of hiking I was exhausted. Gail was still hiking strong. I could barely keep up with her. I need to toughen up, I think.




I was so satisfied with the climbing we did at Millbrook. Getting to the cliff may be inconvenient, but the isolation gives the place a special atmosphere and a solitude you just can't get at the other cliffs. On this beautiful Sunday, while the other cliffs were surely overrun with gumbies (and I mean no offense to all of you gumbies out there), Gail and I were the only people climbing at Millbrook all day.




I hope it doesn't take me a year or more to go back.There are several other climbs I'm dying to try. Maybe I've got the Millbrook bug.

The Jackson Visitor Center finally closes its doors

Without too much fanfare, the Jackson Visitor Center closed its doors to the public today, September 28th, . The NPS is replacing the facility with a new Jackson Visitor Center, scheduled to open (with much fanfare) on October 10th.

For curiosity and fun, I hung out near the main doorway as the final visitors exited and walked away. Over the past two weeks, a public reader board noted today’s significance by counting down the days. Next to it was a hand drawn picture of the space saucer shaped visitor center blasting off into orbit above Mount Rainier. As the front doors were finally locked, you could see rangers and concession employees giggling and smiling inside.
Before the doors closed, I spoke with about one dozen visitors. Interestingly, most didn’t know before arriving in the park that today was the Jackson Visitor Center’s “last day.” Those who did primarily lamented the loss of the 360 degree view from the observation deck, and why wouldn’t they? Today was perfect and the sun was showing off as it slowly slipped behind the mountains and down the Nisqually Valley. The day had been clear and surprisingly warm for late September.


A small crowd cheered as the family (above and left) was informally proclaimed “the last visitors to the JVC.” By the way, there is nothing official about this distinction. It’s just that the doors were promptly locked behind them as they left. Turns out, they were from Puyallup and cruised up in a restored 1969 Cougar to say goodbye. Here is TNT reporter Jeff Mayor talking with them. Note the smiles.

Anyway, now we're just wondering: what sort of welcoming will the new JVC get? More after October 10th.

Visitors Center

There was a visitors center at the end of the road to the top of the mountain. It has tons of information about Hurricane Ridge. We spent time in the gift shop buying souvenirs, and gifts for others, as well as myself. They were having a sale and it was a big hit with the customers. We had lunch at the snack bar. Then spent a goodly amount of time just enjoying the view from all angles. The parking lot was packed and there were a lot of people there, especially sense it was a Sunday, but it didn't seem that crowded as so many parks can get on weekends. And everyone there was enjoying themselves as much as we were. You would find yourself uuing and awing, and exclaiming over the view, the flowers, the grass, the mountains, the glaciers, the sky, or a passing deer with a total stranger standing next to you. I found myself watching a small child about 2 years old and his parents as they enjoyed the park. I, also, found myself sitting quietly by an elderly lady and neither of us had to say a word about how we felt at what we were seeing. I heard several languages besides my native American - Spanish, German, English, Canadian, Japanese, and others I couldn't put a country to.

Roe-Dee-Oh :: Chaos and Confusion

Sunday, August 21st - - The final event of the day was something called a Wild Horse Race. There were seven or eight teams, which made for a wild melee. The premise was to release the horses from the gate with a long rope about their necks. The teams then had to saddle the wild horse and one rider had to mount it and ride it across the arena and back to the gate.



Sounds simple enough but the execution was nearly impossible. From the git-go the horses were in command - as soon as the gates opened they were dragging men on the ground at the end of their ropes, running every which way. Some were able to get the saddles on right away but as soon as a rider mounted he was thrown off. Some never got their horse saddled. There were a few riders who got on but they didn't stay on very long. Unlike Marlboro Man's Team, no one was able to ride their horse across the arena although one fellow did manage to ride along the perimeter for some distance before being tossed off!













Near the end, the Wild Horses ran around riderless for a few minutes, with riders and teammates chasing them, then the announcer said it was all over. I think we were all a bit relieved, participants and audience members alike!



There were some injuries, hopefully none were serious, but the EMT's were out on the field attending to the fallen riders as we left the arena.

Cute Donkey

This is one of the most unusual of the equines in my model horse collection.

My Plan to Prepare for Disaster

After writing the post Are You Prepared? I'm Not a couple of weeks ago, I've decided to take my own advice and have begun devising a plan to tackle some of those issues. But something else came up this morning that added to the mix. Apple's post Uncertain Future brings up some things that I hadn't really thought about. So, what happens to all this stuff in the future, after I'm gone or incapable of living on my own? Wouldn't it be disastrous if it were all destroyed or lost? Looks like another plan needs to be made, or at the least, added to my list.

I'm posting this list for all to see so that perhaps it will give me some incentive. Time spent on these tasks will, obviously, take away time that might otherwise been spent on research or other more "fun" things, but these are things that really require some attention! With that said, I've identified what I think needs to be done, though I may have forgotten a thing or two. Now I have to prioritize these tasks and start working on them!

1. Inventory Household. Take pictures of stuff. Give a copy to someone else to keep in a safe place.

2. Go through all of the boxes (about 30) in the garage. Dispose of what I don't want (sell, give away or trash, if necessary). Inventory items in each box that is kept.

3. Investigate the various services available for scanning photographs. Do they scan the pictures themselves or send them elsewhere? What is the turnaround time, cost, etc. The Genealogy Insider had a post on Batch Photo Scanning Services in October that I've used as the starting point for my investigation. I have negatives for nearly all of the pictures I've taken, so the negatives could be scanned or printed if the pictures were lost in this process. It would be costly, but not disastrous if something were to happen to these prints.

4. Scan Mom's pictures that are in magnetic album pages. Put those pictures into new archival albums. These don't have negatives so they won't be sent out for scanning.

5. Review and reorganize genealogy files (20+ years worth). They look organized, yes? But appearances can be deceiving. I need to put all information for my ancestors into their own file. Currently my files are organized by record type by location. When entered into Legacy a file number is given to each item so it can quickly be retrieved for reference. However, if something should happen to me, no one else would know which documents are specific to which families. Thus, these files need to be reorganized. I also need to confirm that the data has been entered into Legacy.



6. Scan the documents pertaining specifically to ancestors.

7. Finish scanning the old family photographs that I got from Dad (way back in 1992).

8. Create a CD or DVD to distribute the digital picture and document files to my brothers and cousins and anyone else interested in them.

9. Reorganize the files on my computer so that if something happened to me the "important" files would be easier to access, i.e. not buried in several layers of folders. Similar to my paper files, the organization of my digital files make sense to me but could be confusing to others.

10. Post my genealogy databases online. The Bray-Wiseman data is on WorldConnect but none of my other family data is available in an online database. The databases require some clean-up before they can be posted.

11. Be more conscientious about backing up the data on my computer.

12. Try to come up with an answer to the question: "What happens to all this stuff in the future, after I'm gone or incapable of living on my own?"

The Evidence at Hand

The Indiana Genealogical Society has a new lineage society that goes by the name of the “Territorial Guard Society of Indiana” which was formed in honor of the bicentennial of the War of 1812. To qualify you must be an Indiana Genealogical Society member who is a direct descendant of someone who lived within the boundaries of present-day Indiana on or before December 11, 1816 (the date of Indiana statehood).



In this previous post I stated that I have one possible ancestral candidate who could be considered - John Bray of Switzerland County - but the information I currently have that says he was here in 1816 is hearsay...



John Bray, my 4th Great-Grandfather, was born April 28, 1761 (251 years and 2 days ago - perhaps it is a “good omen” that I learned of the Territorial Guard Society on the 251st anniversary of his birth!). John Bray is a proven Revolutionary War Patriot who, thankfully, lived long enough to file for and receive a soldiers pension (filed June 20, 1818 in Switzerland County, Indiana). John enlisted in September 1777 in Romney, Hampshire County, Virginia as a Private in the company of Capt. William Voss - he was 16 years and 5 months old at the time of his enlistment. His pension application states that he participated in the battles of Brandywine (where he was wounded), Dela, Monmouth, in N. J. and in the taking of Stoney Point and in several small skirmishes. He was honorably discharged at York town in Pennsylvania in 1780 after having served three years, the length of his enlistment. John is buried at McKay Cemetery in Craig Township, Switzerland County, Indiana.



After the Revolutionary War, John Bray, along with his parents Henry & Cathryn Bray, and six of his adult siblings, some of whom had families of their own, left their home in Hampshire County, Virginia (now West Virginia) and moved into the wilderness of western Virginia, to the area that would become Nelson County, Kentucky.



Henry Bray begins appearing in tax lists for the area in 1790 with a deed dated December 15, 1792 showing him purchasing 550 acres of land on Pottinger's Creek (south of Bardstown). However, John Bray and several of his brothers begin appearing on the tax lists in 1785 when John is taxed on 2 whites, 1 white tith. “Somewhere on the southern waters of Rolling and Beech Forks, westwardly of the waters of Hardings Creek." It is thought that John and several of his brothers entered the area first while his parents and other siblings followed later.



In fact, John may have been the first of his family to go into the area that would become Kentucky. In February 1781, a John Bray was one of five men examined and found to be qualified for the office of Deputy Surveyor for Lincoln County (Virginia) “whereupon they took the oath of allegiance and the oath of office.” I don't know for certain that this is my John Bray - he would have only been 19 years old at the time. He would turn 20 on April 28th. (Lincoln County was one of three counties created in 1780 from Kentucky County, Virginia. The other two were Jefferson and Fayette. On November 29, 1784 Nelson County was created from Jefferson.)



Tax lists from 1785 through 1796 show that John Bray resided in Nelson County. He was listed as having 50 acres of land in only one year, 1793. I have not (yet) done land record research on him. A John Bray appears in the Hardin County tax lists for 1799, 1800, and 1805. It could be the same man - Hardin County borders Nelson county on the west and was formed in 1792 from part of Nelson county. It has been a few years since doing this research so other tax lists as well as other resources may have become available, but John seems to have “disappeared” for a while. In 1807, John is mentioned in a deed record along with his brothers and sisters, all of whom are listed as being “of Nelson County” Kentucky. However, it is known for certain that several of those siblings were definitely not living in Nelson County at that time.







Nelson and Hardin counties in Kentucky are circled in red. The blue circle is where Switzerland County, Indiana is located.



So where was John Bray after 1797 (or 1805 if he was the John Bray in Hardin County) and until June 20, 1818 when his pension claim was filed in Switzerland County, Indiana? At this time all I can say for sure is “I don't know.”



A few years ago my cousin Caroline found an article written March 20, 1949 by Carrie Bray of Vevay, Switzerland County, Indiana. Carrie was a great-granddaughter of John Bray through his son Daniel. I don't know if this is the full article, it is what I was given.

“The first blacksmith was Nathan Morgan and son Willis. Nathan Morgan and Nancy Morgan Bray are brother and sister. The braytown Christian church was built in 1850. Our father David Bray, helped haul the brick on Ox carts.



“Great grandfather Bray, revolutionist, enlisted Sept. 1777 in Romney, Va. His wife Nancy Morgan Bray, who died before coming to Indiana, so grandfather and four sons and two daughters - Nancy, Betsy, John, James, and Samuel, and Daniel - my grandpa, his wife, Catherine Wallace Bray and their 2 children, Susan who married Meshac Lanchmen and Benjamin, never married. These are the ones Braytown was named for. The state was created 4 days after their arrival, March 5, 1816. Mr. George Craig was one of the first settlers. Mr. James Shaw named the Post Office Craig after him. The first mail carrier was in 1870.”

I have very little information on Nathan Morgan - he is on my to do list and I consider him to be one of the members of the John Bray FAN Club. Nathan may be Family, if he is indeed a brother of the wife of John Bray. (As far as I can determine, the above article is the only “documentation” available that John's wife was Nancy Morgan. Of course, her name has been posted in numerous online trees as well, sans sources.) Nathan could also be an Associate as well as a Neighbor. What I do know is that he applied for a pension based on his service during the Revolutionary War. When he filed his application on June 7, 1832 he was 80 years old and a resident of Switzerland County.



Nathan Morgan stated that he entered service in 1777 or 1778 as a volunteer and served as a private in the Virginia Militia under Captain William Love. He marched to North Carolina, and was stationed part of the time in Chirels [?] Head Mine in Montgomery County, Virginia. He did not receive discharge papers and no one that he knows of that is living can verify his service. Nathan was born in the state of Delaware on the 22nd of October 1752 and he has evidence of birth at home in his father's records. Nathan lived in Virginia prior to enlisting and resided in Virginia two years after service. He then removed to Georgia and lived there 8 years, then to South Carolina for 3 years. He lived in Kentucky about 27 years and has lived in Indiana 20 years. [Abstract from Switzerland County Probate Record Book A, page 326] If he had been a resident of Indiana for 20 years in 1832, that means he came here about 1812.



According to published cemetery transcriptions,Nathan Morgan is buried in McKay Cemetery, the same cemetery as John Bray. Also according to the published transcriptions, Find A Grave, and several online trees as well as information from another researcher (way back in 1999 and ..), Nathan Morgan died on September 4, 1839. However, when I was in Salt Lake City last October, I happened across a record for Nathan in Switzerland County Probate Order Book 1 (page 328) dated the 17th day of October 1835 in which Lewis H. Morgan was named Administrator of the estate of Nathan Morgan based on the report of Robert McKay the 3d that “fifteen days had fully Elapsed Since the death of the Said Nathan Morgan.” An online tree shows that Nathan had a son born October 24, 1809 named Lewis Howell Morgan. That tree lists 15 children born to Nathan, from 1776-1813 by two wives, both named Elizabeth!







Administration of the Estate of Nathan Morgan, granted to Lewis H. Morgan. Switzerland County Probate Order Book 1 (page 328) dated the 17th day of October 1835.



I don't know if pursuing additional information on Nathan Morgan will provide any clues as to when John Bray arrived in Switzerland County but it may well help with the identification of his wife, reported in the above article by Carrie Bray to be Nancy Morgan, sister of Nathan.



Reviewing the article by Carrie Bray a little further, she names the children of John Bray at the time he came to Indiana as “Nancy, Betsy, John, James, and Samuel, and Daniel” but she left out one daughter, Jane. Named in his will (dated June 26, 1832) were sons John, Daniel, and Samuel and daughters Jane Ray, Elizabeth Cotton, and Nancy Culver. Also named were his second wife Elizabeth, whom he married in 1820, and their three children George, Amelia, and Sophia.



In her article, Carrie says “The state was created 4 days after their arrival, March 5, 1816.” This is either an error on her part or a transcription error on the part of my cousin. I'm hopeful, but skeptical, that the date of March 5, 1816 is actually the date John Bray and family arrived in Indiana, which was admitted on December 11, 1816 as the 19th state of these United States. Do you think the evaluation committee for the Territorial Guard Society would allow John Bray to be admitted based on Carrie's story? Not likely...



I have three versions of the pension application of John Bray! Portions of the file were printed from microfilm in the late 1990s at the Allen County Public Library (those are stuck away in storage). Twelve pages (all that were available at the time) were downloaded in .. from Heritage Quest. Then in .. I downloaded 78 pages from Footnote (now Fold3). A few pages have been transcribed but nothing that gives any clues as to when he came to Indiana. I'll be reviewing those documents as well as the few land records that were obtained at Salt Lake City in October of last year. Maybe I'll get lucky and find something of use in his pension file!

Maple Heaven

WOW.... the Maples are looking nice this year! They have really changed a lot in the past week. A week ago there was barely any color on these ridges, this morning they were blazing with color as the rising sun washed over the forest.

Once More with Feeling: the Return of the Winter Tire Dilemma

After last year's mild winter, this holiday season caught us off guard with a bountiful snowfall. My two ridable transport bikes at the moment are a Brompton and a 650B prototype mixte (more on that soon). The mixte sports 42mm Grand Bois Hetre tires, and so I thought it would be a great idea to ride it in the snow. After all, the Hetres ride so nicely over unpaved, uneven terrain. Crusty snow feels kind of similar. I took to the streets.




Here I will pause to admit, that despite 3 previous winters of cycling behind my belt, I had never before ridden on roads that look quite like what's pictured here. There was never a need to, since our neighbourhood usually gets plowed and salted pretty thoroughly. Typically the streets look morelike this-with snowbanks piled high on the sides, but the travel lanes mostly cleared. This time around, maybe on account of the holidays, they had not cleared the snow all that well. I got to experience the real deal.






The snow on the roads created terrain of three distinct categories. There was the even, packed snow. Riding on it felt similar to riding on post-rain dirt roads, nicely packed and kind of softish. The Hetres handled well there. There was the crusted-over snow, uneven and slippery at times, though not outright icy. This too felt manageable. And then there were the occasional stretches of deeper, slushier snow. I expected it to feel similar to mud, but it was way more slidey and my front wheel kept fishtailing. Still, overall I thought that the tires did fine. There were only a few stretches where I felt uneasy, and I attributed that to a lack of confidence.




So I got home and uploaded some pictures of my snow ride, planning to comment on how decently the Grand Bois Hetres handled. But promptly the pictures received feedback from others to the opposite effect, warning that these tires ride poorly in the snow. The fact that I happily rode them and felt they were fine strikes me as funny - in a concerning sort of way. Ideally, I'd like to be able to tell the difference between lack of traction and lack of confidence.






And so, once more the Winter Tire Dilemma is upon me. Naturally, everyone is suggesting studded tires. This is my 4th winter commuting by bike and I have yet to try them. Partly this is because they are expensive and I cannot seem to commit to a wheel size. I am riding 650B now, but in winters past I've ridden 26", 28" and 700C, and who knows what I'll be riding next winter. I am also convinced that getting studded tires and mounting them on my bike will activate the Umbrella Carrying Principle, ensuring that I will not need them.






Finally, the very fact of having gotten through 3 winters without them makes me question whether I really need studs. Winters here aren't really that bad, and tires with some tread seem to do pretty well. The Schwalbe Marathon Plus are the husband's favourite for city slush and snowy paths alike, and they are even available for the Brompton's wheel size. The performance-oriented Continental Top Winter IIs also come highly recommended. Knobby mountain bike tires are another popular choice. One issue, as I understand it, is that no tire is equally good for both snow and ice. Studded tires help with ice, but not snow. Tires with heavy tread help with snow, but not ice.This winter, my commutes cover longer distances and more remote areas than previously, so a good winter tire is worth considering ...though with all the choices and factors involved, I suspect spring might come by the time I decide.

Every trick in the book.

He's got a job at the new Coles. He's got his P licence. 2 weeks of school left. But something is missing. A new tick.



Matt pauses at the start of his new second pitch route to allow the camera to make a wardrobe decision. Yellow La Sportiva?




And we go with the white Bob Dylan singlet.










Hegets the gear sorted, I work out the angles, and it's go time.










The route straight away sucks him in close with a gaston, undercling, stem combo.












Itpushes him deeperintothe scoop, unknowingly playing to his flexibility strengths.











Kneepads by Upskill







It goads him onto it's thorny bollards and tries tolure him into cutting loose, thus ripping his fore arm flesh,he resists and stays firmlyattached.













Then it's the old "hang onmy magic hold till your arms drop off" trick.

.






There's Bob staring at you.




He sees through it and punches on.






























Uh oh.Climbers, we've all fallen for this one.

It's the massive lunge off the slopey crimp and the end of the route story.



















This route knows all the dirty tricks.




























Even Matty falls forit this time.






















PS. Matt sent the route today 13/11/ calling it Tropic Thunder, 27






jj