DOs and DON'Ts of Tent Life

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New Rock Route at Black Canyon

Charlie jumped on what we believe to be a new rock route with enthusiasm. He plunged his left hand into a perfect crack, then found a solid hand hold for his right as he prepared to move.

What to call this remarkable, moderate route? We tossed around some ideas, but welcome input from others (please comment below). Here are a few we came up with:

The Prone Joker
Supine Septuagenarian (there's a little problem with this one, so we moved on to...)
Prostrate Pretender
Napping on the Black

Surely you've gotten the picture by now, right? This is Charlie. He's a little different. The word "serious" is not in his vocabulary.

For those who still don't get it, or who want to see the un-cropped, un-rotated version, here you go:

We sometimes end our posts with "Climb on!" This time, it might be more appropriate to close with 

"Crawl on!"

Q & A: How unusual was that climbing accident?

All of our books so far have dealt with outdoor recreation such as climbing in one way or another, and our primary audience has been hikers / climbers / outdoorsy people. With Diane's novel, Faces, as well as Charlie's memoir, Two Shadows, a number of non-climbers are now reading our books. And they have questions. We'll tackle one of them here.

Q: In Faces, Jessica rappels off the end of the rope and falls. Is that a pretty unusual type of accident?

A: Unfortunately, no. In fact, it seems to be a particularly common accident related to climbing. And it's usually a preventable accident.

As a person rappels (or abseils) down a rope, the rope passes through a device attached to their harness in a way that provides friction. With a typical rappel device, if the rope below the climber is pulled downward, that slows the rate of descent (more friction is applied to the system). Note Diane's left hand position. To speed up, the climber might raise the rope away from her hip, which releases a little of the friction in the system.

But if a climber doesn't notice that she is nearing the end of the rope, it might pass through her "brake hand" (Diane's left hand in this case) before she has time to react. Once that happens, most of the friction in the system is released, and the rope will rush through the belay device before it's possible to react. 

In the novel, Jessica was only about 10 feet off the ground, and was fortunate to not suffer even more serious injuries from the fall. Sadly, in real life a number of climbers who have rappelled off the end of their rope were not so lucky. The results can certainly prove fatal.

However, if knots are tied to the ends of the rope, even if the person fails to notice that they're running out of rope, they are quite unlikely to fall when they hit those knots. They have some other problems to deal with, since they may be dangling far above any ledge or the ground, but that's another story!

There are also some other safety precautions to avoid this common accident, but we don't want to turn this into a rappelling manual.

By the way, in the novel, the rope was set up improperly, with one end falling far below the other, making it visually confusing to Jessica to see that there was a problem. This type of accident can also happen if the rope is just plain too short for the cliff. Someone didn't do their homework (two ropes can be tied together for longer rappels). 

Be careful out there and check those knots!

Curious about the storyline of Faces? Here's a sample from the early chapters of the book.

Getting Low in Death Valley

by Charlie Winger

Having survived the Spirit Mountain adventure (see Desert Peak Bush-whacking), I decided that bushwhacking might not be my forte. It must be time for something a little tamer. Why not join my longtime climbing partner Gary Hoover and Highpointers Club editor John Mitchler for a stroll across the lowest point in Death Valley National Park?

Gary, John, and I left one vehicle on the west side of the Park in the parking area at Tule Spring, located below Telescope Peak, the highest point in Death Valley National Park at 11,029. Tule Spring is located close to Hanaupah Canyon which is the standard access for hiking from near the low point in the Park to the summit of Telescope Peak, giving you the potential for an 11,000' hiking day.

We took our second vehicle and drove around to Badwater parking area. This area is near 281 feet below sea level. We loaded up with three liters of water each, plenty of sunscreen, wide brimmed hats, and "throwaway" shoes for the hike across the salt flats to the lowest point in Death Valley and North America. Someone recently died attempting this hike. Apparently, he did not take enough fluids and did the hike when it was too hot. We took old shoes since we could be sinking into ankle-deep muck as we make the seven mile crossing to the other side.

Our hike started quite pleasantly as we joined a dozen or so tourists who were walking out about a quarter mile to explore the salt flats. Shortly, we found ourselves out away from anyone else negotiating the salt ridges, which resembled ice on a frozen lake.

The surface was quite solid and we barely left footprints on the ground. Some 3.5 miles from our starting point we vectored in on the lowest point in North America, 282 feet below sea level Nothing to this "lowpointing." No scree, no loose talus or bushwhacking -- just funny looking polygon patterns on the valley floor.

We were standing there looking around unable to see our starting point or where our vehicles were parked at Tule Springs.  What we could see was a major dust storm heading our way. Good thing we all had GPS receivers as visibility could be a problem. But Mother Nature had one last surprise in store for us -- rain. Believe it or not, it started to rain while we were at the low point. Hey, what's a little rain you say? Well, add water to salt and what do you get? Muck! Oh boy, only 3.5 sloppy miles to go before we get to our vehicles. Are we having fun yet?

Thankfully, the rain was short-lived and we had only wind and dust to contend with, but as an intelligent person (do you know one?) would gather, when you hike toward a place which contains the name "springs" it's safe to assume that it's going to be just a wee bit damp. So, glog, glog, slip, curse and so on it went for the last mile or so of the hike. I don't remember too much conversation taking place.

We arrived alive, hydrated, and happy at Tule Springs ready for a good meal at the cafe located at Furnace Creek.

Gary and I said goodbye to John and headed to Emigrant campground above Stovepipe Wells for a good night's rest before taking off on our adventure the next day, a hike up Panamint Butte -- an 8 hour, 5,000' day on loose volcanic scree. Gee, I can hardly wait!

Desert Peak Bush-whacking (or is that Manzanita-whacking?)

Forty-two years ago (1971) our friend, Jim Scott, embarked on a quest to complete a list of peaks of 99 peaks in the desert southwest and Mexico. The "Desert Peaks List" was compiled by the Los Angeles Chapter of the Sierra Club's Desert Peak Section (DPS). Some of the more interesting peaks on the list are Weaver's Needle and Baboquivari in Arizona, Picacho Peak in California and everyone's favorite El Picacho del Diablo (Devil Peak) in Mexico.

Fast forward to 2013. Jim, along with longtime friends Burt Falk, Dave Cooper, Ginni Greer, Gary Hoover, Diane, and Charlie headed out to finish the List on Spirit Mountain in southern Nevada. I wish I could say the hike was uneventful but why should it be? We started up a gully to gain a ridge which appeared to connect up with the ridge traversing over to the summit. As we all know, appearances can be misleading. For that matter who was "leading"? Oh well, we're just here to have fun so let's go up as high as we can, descend down into the next gully as far as we can, go back up to the next ridge, and so on and so forth.

Everyone had a different opinion where the route was supposed to go. In his usual fashion, Charlie took off to do some "exploring" and located what he thought would be the key to reaching the summit. Back up to the ridge he went to inform the group of his find. "Ok Charlie, you go that way. We'll take an easier route." What a bunch of cowards!

Burt & Diane happy to be on a marked path

Well, Charlie did his route which included some 5.8 bushwhacking in Cat Claw and Manzanita to the top of a 200' waterfall. Hey, no problem. After an airy traverse and scramble up the other side of the gully, he miraculously arrived on a well-defined trail complete with cairns. Better to be lucky than good. He signaled his companions, who by this time were well above him, attempting to surmount a very nasty rock rib. The larger group managed to work their way around the rock rib to join him, muttering something about his route being a "death wish."

Jim atop his 99th Desert Peak

Everyone again had on their "happy face" now that we were on a trail (okay, a path of sorts with cairns) and hiking up toward the summit. The remainder of the hike was a breeze and Jim literally jumped with joy upon completing his quest. We followed the well-marked trail back out to our vehicles, wondering how we could have missed the turn we needed to make early during the hike.

(Charlie completed the Desert Peaks List in 2004 along with Burt Falk and Gerry and Jennifer Roach. Diane has climbed about 20 - 25 of the peaks on the list -- she didn't keep track.)

Bisti Wilderness Wanderings

A couple of years ago our friends Dave Cooper and Ginni Greer headed to the Bisti Badlands Wilderness in New Mexico for a photo shoot. Dave, a professional photographer known for capturing outstanding scenic photography, returned with images of unique rock formations. We decided to check it out in person.

We arrived late morning at a very dry, dusty, not-very-impressive landscape. Could we be in the wrong place? This certainly didn't look anything like those images Cooper presented on his website. Oh well, we're here so why not make the best of things. Wait, there's someone else about to start their hike. Perhaps they can help us with some directions since we don't have a decent trail map of the area. Luckily, they had a BLM map which they had cleverly picked up at the BLM office in Durango. The one we drove past without stopping (we don't need no stinkin' map).

Nice folks that they were, they graciously offered us the use of their map, which we accepted amid many thanks and wishes that their first born would turn out to be a well paid professional athlete.

Out came the GPS. Charlie set a waypoint for our car. Of course we know where we're going, but if all else fails then a night sleeping in the Subaru complete with ProBars and potato chips might just become a reality. Finally, we're off and walking, on the prowl for those phantom formations which Cooper had photographed. Within ten minutes, we're firmly entrenched among hoodoos, gargoyles, subterranean tunnel-like features, and mysterious deep black holes. Up, down, and around we went enjoying our exploration without the foggiest notion of exactly where we were or where we were going.

We eventually did what all good mountaineers and explorers do; we climbed up out of the abyss and back into daylight to get a look around. Perhaps it would be prudent to follow the footprints where many others have gone -- and it's not as creepy. We pulled out the borrowed map and made a plan (now there's a novel idea). Charlie entered several waypoints into the GPS, then went to the rear as Diane became the intrepid leaderwoman (I think that's a valid word).

Our first destination was a feature called "Cracked Eggs." Thanks to the skillful route-finding of leaderwoman, we arrived at an array of various oval shaped objects. Cracked Eggs? These formations more closely resembled dinosaur droppings than cracked eggs, but then what do we know?

Next up, an area of petrified wood which reminded us of how temporary we are in the geologic scheme of things. Based on the number of petrified tree trunks we saw, this must have been a very large, verdant forest ages ago.

Charlie surreptitiously regained the leaderman role and led the way toward our next point, Eagle's Nest. Time passed, the pressure was on. No eagle's nest. There were plenty of formations around which look like eagles but it would be a stretch to picture an eagle's nest. Leaderwoman stepped forward, raised her arm in a semi-salute skyward. Either she had to go to the bathroom or she was attempting to get Charlie's attention directed upward. Oh, that eagle nest. leaderman: 0, leaderwoman: 1.

We passed so many hoodoos and strange formations that we could go on forever but a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Before heading to the car, we had one last feature to locate, Stone Wings. There's probably a story here about "Wings (Charlie's nickname) Stoned" but we won't go there. We encountered several features which we declared to be the dreaded Stone Wings but, alas, they were sad examples. Not to be defeated, we continued on our quest, wandering up and down, around and through the various formations. Finally, using dead reckoning and a superior sense of direction (yeah, right) we managed to stumble onto the Wings and they were well worth the effort.

The afternoon was quickly slipping away and we needed to return to our car, a mere one mile away as the crow flies and the GPS points. As the reptile crawls and the hiker walks, it turned out to be much more due to dead end washes and various other features which needed to be surmounted, including crawling under two fences (we must have wandered onto a spur of private property somehow). Hey, no one's perfect.

We arrived back at the car, tired and with plenty of great photos. We had hiked about eight miles in a loop with only a few hundred feet of elevation gain. This was a cool place to visit, but for the best photographic opportunities we recommend sunrise and sunset. No toilets, water sources, or other amenities are available, so bring plenty of water. We would strongly advise using a GPS and marking the location of your car as you never know where your meanders will take you.

For more photos of this amazing place, visit Dave Cooper's photo gallery

Searching for Warmer Climes (and Climbs)

Charlie recently returned from one of his frequent "peak-bagging" trips. These outings often last a week or more and involve making his way up an assortment of mountains, hills, pinnacles, and other formations from mysterious lists of his own making or ones he has discovered from other sources.

This trip focused mainly on a region around Phoenix, and included a large number of other hikers with some members leaving early, others taking their place ... and a dog. Here's more of Charlie's story:

Some of the group decided to head down a few days early and bag a few summits and then meet the rest of us at Timber Camp campground just north of Globe, AZ. They had perfect weather until a couple of days prior to the group arriving. Then, the rains came -- several inches in fact -- to be followed by about six inches of wet snow. The road became nearly impassable and one vehicle had to be pulled out using another couple's newly-purchased truck/camper. What a way to start a trip. Well, cowards that they are, they all broke camp and headed south to the Lost Dutchman State Park campground east of Mesa, AZ where more seasonable weather awaited them.

I drove to Holbrook, AZ where (coward that I am) I checked into the local Travelodge for a warm and pleasant night away from those nasty storms. Sunday dawned very frosty and bright with the promise of the type of weather we went to AZ to experience. I drove down to Lost Dutchman to meet the group and discovered that they weren't allowing any grass (or was it cactus) to grow under their feet. They had departed to climb some local peak, so I made the best of the remainder of the day by hiking up toward the rock formations behind the Park. Diane and I had climbed the Razor's Edge rock climb on the Praying Hands formation a few years back. A fun 5.6 climb that ascends the edge of the rock which is only a couple of feet wide in spots. Great exposure and a double rope rappel.

The group gathered all participants together that evening. After a few beers were consumed and enough lies were told, tomorrow's hiking plan was discussed. We decided to do Picketpost Mountain -- not too far a drive up US 60.

Picketpost is an easy but enjoyable hike followed by easy scrambling up through some cliffs to a knoll and the highpoint. It's part of the Arizona Trail and obviously sees a lot of traffic on the weekends. The mailbox which held the registers was jammed full and the all appeared to be within the last 6 months. Everyone made the summit, including the Roach's dog, Izzy, who managed to collect a few cholla on his feet and belly. Thankfully, one of our hikers was a veterinarian, so the offenders were skillfully removed and Izzy only tried to bite his rescuers a few times. Ouch!

The outstanding feature of this hike was the fields of Golden Poppies which were in full bloom.

Charlie goes on to describe hikes up Salt River Peak, Two Bar Mountain, Pinyon Mountain, Richmond Mountain, and Chrome Butte -- the last two solo as he headed back home toward Colorado.

What? He only climbed 6 peaks in 6 days? He must have been taking it easy so as not to wear out the others.

Charlie's full trip report can be read here.

The Birds

We recently returned from a road trip which included some hiking and sightseeing in warmer climes. Although we can barely even be described even as amateur birders, we were delighted to visit Bosque del Apache, where were were treated to the songs and dances of a few thousand ever-fascinating and mesmerizing Sandhill Cranes. They are some of my favorite birds, and we had the opportunity to observe them during the Monte Vista Crane Festival while doing research for our Great Sand Dunes guidebook.

However, the most memorable part of our birding day was when we stopped at a lake by the road, covered with tens of thousands of Snow Geese. (Yes, there are festivals for these white and black beauties as well, such as the High Plains Snow Goose Festival in Lamar, CO)

And they're off!

We carefully stood by our cars, snapping shots of the stark-white birds floating calmly in the water. The birds seemed to ignore the handful of human observers.

Then suddenly a cry rang out, and the birds began taking off en masse. It sounded like a clap of thunder as thousands upon thousands of geese took off, their wings creating a wave of noise. The immense flock headed south.

Tens of thousand birds form a "storm cloud"

The monstrous mass of birds swirled this way and that, their form filling much of the visible sky.

Finally, the dark cloud of geese turned back toward the lake, and the next several minutes were filled with a different cacophony of squawks and calls as they all settled back into the water. It seemed as if they all felt the need to talk about what had just happened.

Settling back in -- but not without much discussion

"Whoa! Who gave the signal for all of us to leave?"
"Junior. Junior! Get over here with your sister or we'll migrate without you."
"So there I was, minding my own business, just meditating on the water, when everyone around me took off..."

Beautiful, aren't they?

A Walk in the Woods (not to be confused with...)

(Not to be confused with a title of the same name by Bill Bryson, but a tale just as fraught with adversity in nature)

Our walk in the woods involved a hike up Mazatzal Peak in southern Arizona. The hike seemed somewhat trivial, just 14 miles in length while gaining 3,700' in elevation. Not so bad, eh?

An early morning start found my hiking partner George and me blasting up the trail, full of energy, while imagining a return to our vehicle by early afternoon. Those first few miles just seemed to glide past as we ascended the scenic winding trail up toward our peak. All too soon our sense of tranquility was rudely interrupted as we rounded a bend in the trail and reality reared its ugly head. Hark, the trail took a sudden turn downhill. Looked like we would need to depart from the trail and ascend a broad slope which connected to a ridge leading toward the summit. No problem, eh? No problem if we had a chain saw. The brush on either side of the trail consisted of a dense grove of Manzanita trees -- otherwise known as "iron wood" -- a sorry specimen, indeed.

We circumvented the impenetrable trees, and finally broke into a clearing with the ridge just several hundred feet above. High Fives were exchanged and we strode uphill toward what appeared to be a grove of small saplings. The closer we got the less they looked like small saplings and more like those fences which surround prison yards. If we could get through the Manzanita forest, this couldn't be any worse, or could it?

George fights his way through Cat Claw

It wasn't long before we became separated in a nearly impenetrable thicket of cat claw bushes. Cat Claws have claw-shaped spines which can protrude over an inch long from the branches. Our only form of communication was a loud "ouch" followed by a stream of cuss words. We were literally stabbed in the arms, neck, face and other places too personal to mention. Progress was measured only by the amount of blood which was shed. The idea that we might get back to our vehicle by early afternoon dissipated like the early morning fog. The question was more on the order of "is my headlamp in my pack"?

All good things must come to an end as we finally exited the stand of cat claw by balancing along on top of several downed logs. Finally, we were on the ridge! The going ahead looked easier, mainly consisting of criss-crossed clusters of blackened, fallen trees, the result of a recent forest fire. Imagine doing a couple of hours on a Stair Master machine and you'll get the picture of our next obstacle course. Are we having fun yet?

Yes, we finally did make the summit and returned to our vehicle before the sun had set, but just barely. And, we sure as hell picked a different way off the mountain, a little smarter and less smug than when we started.

Chilling Out in the Fiery Furnace

It sounded just right -- 3 nights of camping at Arches National Park with daytime temperatures forecast at around 60F, nights dropping to the upper 30s. Charlie & I planned to hook up with two long-time climbing/hiking friends for some fun hikes in my favorite National Park.

While the weather didn't cooperate quite as much as we'd hoped (highs barely made it to 50F, lows in the teens & low 20s), we more than made up for the chilly temps by obtaining a spur-of-the-moment permit to explore the Fiery Furnace region. Although we had read that we'd have to schedule a visit well in advance and only go on a Ranger-led outing, Charlie's impressive resume of hiking experience in Death Valley (he's climbed EVERY named point -- well over 100 peaks) and a little name-dropping (BTW, we're the authors of the guidebook for Great Sand Dunes National Park) earned us a permit to go explore on our own. After carefully viewing the "training video" and promising not to step on cryptobiotic soil, or otherwise harass, harm, or disrespect the environment, we were off and scrambling!

Twin arches "stare" back at the camera.

Our descent to find a major drainage to explore was likely a route that few had chosen before, but soon we found ourselves following in the sandy footprints of others. We admired the dramatic sculptures made by water and blowing sand, and spotted twin arches whose names we still don't know. We even spotted a Playboy bunny. Really.

Rabbit head?

Narrow corridors of rock sometimes challenged us, but creative maneuvering of our packs let us pass through. We were like kids exploring uncharted territory, finding creative routes to avoid the delicate plants and fragile soils, squeezing through tunnels, balancing along rocky shelves, and skirting pockets of water.

We'll be watching the weather forecasts for another opportunity to enjoy this magical place again soon.