Back in Cali kickin it with the crew. Miss it here. Good times, great friends. Toots got his first chance to visit one of our favorite places on earth, the stunning mountaintop boulder field at Lizard’s Mouth, home to the best moderate sandstone bouldering anywhere. And actually thanks to our buddy Bernd, a bunch of new hard lines have gone up in the last year.

Here we are on one of them, an unnamed route overlooking the ocean. We spent sunset here taking pictures.

If you want to know how it’s done, I used a really fast prime lens at f/1.4 coupled with a single flash bouncing off a gold reflector disk. Reflector was pointing up from ground level, flash was triggered via a PocketWizard. Very low ISO (100) allowed me to get the dark blue sky at 125th of a second. It also let me have a very noiseless image. I passed off the camera later on and Bernd grabbed it to take the last two shots, one of Steve and one of me.

Quite possibly the highlight of the day was seeing Alicia’s parents’ chihuahua Rosie wearing Bernd’s kid’s diaper. Finn, Bernd and Hjortis’ little infant, was nice and warm and had a spare diaper. Rosie was freezing and had nothing. So… What happens when you have a spare diaper and a freezing chihuahua? Diaper Dog. It’s was the only solution.

Yes!

About time! We’ve been meaning to go to Indian Creek and Penitente Canyon for months, and we finally did a few weeks ago. The usual suspects consisted of me and Alicia, Toots, 5 crazy Norwegians (two of whom are good friends we met in New Zealand) and a Canadian guy named Tee, who just started a 6 month climbing trip and is now probably half way to Mexico to hit up El Potrero Chico.

The two Norwegians we already knew are Maja and Terje. Maja is pronounced “Maya,” while Terje is pronounced “Tah-dee-uh,” which is too complicated for me so I call him TJ. So meet Maja (at our campsite), TJ (on Supercrack) and Tee (on Binge and Purge).

TJ works on oil rigs in the middle of the North Sea doing real safe stuff like changing the spouts that spew out all the flames. Not sure exactly why, but he’s looking for a slight career change, and photography is his top choice. I copied my outdoor sports website, spruced it up a little bit, changed the logo and let him use it — check it out: http://www.terjeaamodt.com. For the first time ever, I’m the guy on the other side of the lens. Kind of weird.

Indian Creek was awesome, as usual, and we did all the classics. Supercrack, Incredible Hand Crack, The Wave, Fingers in a Light Socket, etc. For some reason I got the not-so-bright idea to go climb wide cracks, including the Big Baby (100 feet of 5 to 6-inch 5.11c offwidth) and Binge and Purge, another 5.11 with a squeeze chimney that lets you rest only when you inhale. So to move up, you exhale and don’t breathe, and to stop and rest you inhale and don’t breathe. That enables you to get a nice torso jam, but it also makes you want to purge. Not sure where the binge comes from. TJ took the next two shots of my struggles. They were worthwhile, though, because when we got back I finally ticked off the Crack of Fear, an offwidth in Estes that I’ve wanted to climb since I started 10 years ago.

TJ also took this cool shot of Tee on a cool 5.9 near Supercrack. I think he’s got some awesome images. Norway, represent!

Here’s a shot I scored of TJ climbing the Cave Route, a 5.11 lieback that’s hidden behind a giant slab of sandstone that fell down once upon a time. Great place on a hot day.

After a few days of beating ourselves up, we cruised on to Penitente Canyon, in the middle of Colorado’s San Luis Valley. It’s my favorite place to climb, and I’m not sure why. The routes are short, but oh-so-nice and the whole setting is just kind of magical. Even Toots liked it:

It’s home to a lot of super-mega-hyper-awesome classics, including what many consider the best arete in America, Bullet the Blue Sky. Here’s TJ falling on his second try (but he sent on his third, which is stupid fast for a 5.12c).

Then TJ got these awesome shots of me on my faves, and I have to show them off because I’m so excited to have, for the first time in my life, cool pictures of me climbing. First, the infamous Stemmroids, a .12d open book overhung stemming line with an off-balance deadpoint/dyno at the top that I’m about to do. And then my still-undone project, a .13a called Virgin No More that I’ve yet to send because 1) the last move is insanely hard and 2) every time I try it, it starts hailing, raining or snowing. I came —-> <—- THAT close to getting it, but I screwed up my sequence at the top and bailed. Again. The cool thing is that I have to do it again, and the line is superb and the climbing is like a dance. So no worries.

Yay for climbing!

Awesome! I’m shooting an absolutely killer wedding later today in the Eastern Sierra Nevada mountains at this place called Convict Lake, which is just down the road from Mammoth. I flew in a few days ago and have been hanging out with some Norwegians we met in New Zealand, who are wrapping up a year-long jaunt through Thailand, the South Pacific, Canada and America. For the last few days we’ve been waking up, sitting in hot springs, climbing, sitting in hot springs, and then going to sleep. Not a bad life! The other day TJ and I went up to climb one of the most photogenic boulder problems in Bishop, a proud line called Atari that’s shaped like the videogame symbol. I’m psyched with some of the images I captured of him up there. Check it:

Then TJ caught a few pictures of me on some of the other super-mega-classics at the Happies. Ahh. Lovin’ it. Lovin’ it.

Pictures from the wedding will come soon!

I’m sure anyone who was hiking around Sky Pond a few Mondays ago would have seen me and my buddy Chris halfway up the Petit Grepon looking like a couple of uberdorks. So if you were out there, yep, that was me up there. The guy in the white tightpants. Actually, Chris didn’t look like an uberdork, but he was guilty by association. Here we are:

The Petit, in contrast to the two of us, is absolutely not uberdorky. It’s one of the classic climbs in North America, according to a book called, “The 50 Classic Climbs of North America.” Imagine that! You’ll have to excuse the terrible photos I’m going to post — I actually don’t own a modern point-n-shoot, so we dug a 7-year-old relic out of the closet.

Anyway, behold! The Petit!

Of the two biggest formations, it’s the one on the left that narrows down to a knifeblade toward the summit. So awesome. We hiked up there at 8 pm the night before so we didn’t have to get up at 3 am, and we slept out beneath the Perseid meteor shower. Check out this defaced photo with the route up the South Face traced in red…

So we woke up at 6 am, ate what should have been called a ‘cherry bomb’ (some sort of cherry custard coffee cake concoction) hiked up to the base, racked up and charged. Mom, you can skip the rest of this paragraph. I got to lead the first pitch, which as you can see went for about 600 feet. We simulclimed to the first belay over pretty easy 5.5 terrain with a few moves of 5.7, which made things go quite fast since we didn’t have to belay each other. Basically we both climbed at the same time on opposite ends of the rope. I still placed gear, but Chris’ bodyweight acted as my belay instead of his hands holding a rope through a belay device. I eventually ran out of gear so I built an anchor and belayed Chris the rest of the way up, where he reracked, and led off. We were both getting worked by the cherry bomb, but no matter. The second bit was sustained 5.8, so we made a real pitch out of it. The last two should have been strung together as a long simulclimbing pitch, but it wandered too much and the rope drag was a pain. But we were still at the top by 8 am. Pretty cool way to start the day.

Observe the uberdork on the way to the summit and on the summit:

What makes the Petit Grepon so rad is its last pitch and its summit. As you climb up that last section, you eventually find yourself on the knifeblade. It’s about 8 feet wide or so. On your right is a not-so-steep 5.7 face that goes 900 feet to the ground. On your left is a vertiginous, overhung valley that’s another 900 feet straight down. Like, if you dropped a pebble off , it wouldn’t hit the wall on the way down. Then you top out onto this little itty bitty summit that’s no bigger than a minivan, and it overlooks a lot of stuff up there. Way cool. You can see us waving at our shadows in the next pic, and then you can see me rapping off. It’s 4? 5? 6? I forgot double-rope raps all the way to the ground. Couldn’t be easier. Up and down by 9 am. Is verrry niicce!

Here’s a crazy shot I just came across while organizing my Web site. I shot a Montana wedding last summer at the Holland Lake Lodge, which is on Holland Lake outside of Missoula. Really cool place, really beautiful setting. The lodge is on a tiny little peninsula jutting out into this serene, gorgeous lake. Check out the portfolio link to see what it was like. Highly highly recommended place to get married.

Anyway, the wedding was one those really fun weekend-long things. During the weekend, everyone discovered the mother of all rope swings. I got a bunch of rad shots of everyone on it, and here’s a shot that someone took of me on it… I know, I was working and playing. Sorry! Don’t tell anyone. I think I was about 35 or 40 feet up in the air.

Okay, this is pretty rad. We stayed at a friend of a friend’s house in Wanaka for about a week, and part way through our visit, Ben decided to let us in on a little secret.

Way up on a hill above a river he’d discovered a huge crag that he was trying to develop. The Wanaka Rock Climbing Club has a battery-powered rotary hammer drill that anyone can borrow, so he’d been going up there bolting new sport climbs. One day while he was walking around and scoping his new crag, he found a giant hole in the ground — a hole 100 feet deep, 15 feet wide and maybe 40 feet long. The dimensions at the top of it are the same as the dimensions at the bottom, and the walls are completely sheer. It probably was formed by a giant earthquake. It’s a crazy fractured chasm; one side is completely overhung and the other is a blank slab. In the middle is a sharp, aesthetic arete that looks completely unclimbable from above.

So Ben took us to this hole and we were astounded. We stared awestruck at the arete wondering if it would go. We figured it was possible, but damn hard. Maybe 5.14 or so. There didn’t seem to be any holds, but we had to take a closer look. Since we couldn’t figure out how to get to the bottom of pit, we installed a rappel anchor on the side of it and threw a rope down, eyeballing and cleaning an easy line adjacent to the arete. Since the hole is so deep, steep and narrow, we actually couldn’t even see the bottom. I rapped in first and wondered if I was the first human ever to set foot down there. As I descended, I encountered walls carpeted with mosses, ferns, lichens and molds. It was nuts. The bottom was dank, wet and really green, and it was blanketed in a 2-foot-deep layer of peat. Waaaaaaaayyy cool. I eyeballed that arete, and to my surprise there actually were holds. Maybe that line could go. Maybe. But I still figured it would be at least 5.13. Hmm.

Next we put a few bolts on the top of the arete and rappelled down that with hammers and a brush. We scrubbed off lichens on the key holds and broke all the chossy bits off. Each time a smacked off a jib or crimper, an unfortunate feeling in my stomach grew. This line is amazing, I kept thinking, but way too hard. Nevertheless, we decided to give it a go on toprope. And guess what?! It went! We played around on it for an hour, figuring out the moves and discovering the arete’s intricacies. It’s super technical, sustained, overhanging. Half way up the climber swings off the arete onto a thin, balancy face, and then then finishes again on the arete. I’ve only seen one arete as clean and sharp as this one in my life. The more we played on it, the more we realized it was climbable. So we bolted it and came back a week later with a bunch of friends for a first, second, third, fourth and fifth ascent.

Here’s the description, to be printed in the next edition of the Wanaka climbing guidebook:

Freeloader, 5.12b/c, 7 bolts. Hyper classic! Sustained climbing on a striking overhung arete to hard cranking on a subtle, crimpy face. Described by the third, fourth and fifth ascentionists as “the best route in Wanaka,” “the best sport climb in New Zealand,” and “the best, most sustained arete I’ve ever climbed anywhere.” Rap into a double bolt belay 30′ from the bottom of the hole, pull through a traverse and charge up the arete’s slopers and crimps, all the while teetering over the 100-foot-deep abyss. Equipped/First Ascent by Nathan Welton and Pierre Boissier, March 2007.

So named because we stayed at Ben’s house for way too long, borrowed someone else’s drill, and had to borrow shoes and chalk to make the first ascent. Shameless.

Sorry to brag about this thing. It’s just way too cool. I’m so psyched! Sometimes you get jazzed about a climb you’ve developed simply because it’s “your baby.” But this thing really is something else. I’ve never seen such a rock formation in my life.

Here are some images — that first one of me was shot by my buddy Pierre, who is in the second picture.

Ten days ago we backpacked into the Routeburn Track, a beautiful trail in the Remarkables mountain range. The Routeburn is considered the little brother of the Milford Track, and it’s where everyone winds up who can’t get a Milford Track reservation (which we scored last October). The route is a three-day hike over the Southern Alps, and it’s spectacular. We actually didn’t do the whole trip, but instead hiked in for a night to meet up with some friends who were on their way out. We brought them wine and chocolate and they cooked us a cheesecake… which I spilled wine all over. Back country living at its finest! We picked a good time to go, too: our friends had been trudging through shin-deep floodwater on the trail thanks to a huge storm that smacked into the South Island. But the day we walked in, the storm cleared. Niiiiiicce. While on the track we also took a 30-km day hike up through the Harris Saddle, which on a sunny day should have afforded us views all the way to the coast. Couldn’t see the sea, but we could see the Remarkables peeking through the clouds. Pretty, what’s the word… remarkable!

Check out some of the pictures — and pay attention to our awesome campsite! Tenting sure beats the huts along NZ’s great walks. The huts are nice in a rain storm, I guess, but they’re hot, muggy and filled with people who snore. I spent a few nights in the kitchens along the Milford Track to escape the nighttime noises.

Also of note are the pictures of the little bird on my shoe and legs. Since native birds have no endemic predators, they’re pretty much fearless. As I was taking a rest, this little dude hopped up onto the top of my shoe and then proceeded to cruise around on my leg. I think it wanted to steal the fibers from my socks for a nest, and it plucked away at me for about 10 minutes! Who knows how long travelers will have such an experience, though; introduced animals are decimating the country’s native bird species.

Right now we’re in the town of Wanaka. Climbed yesterday and are weathering out a storm in the comfort of the van. Apparently the Milford Track is due for 200mm of rain today. Good thing we left when we did. Last night we watched a movie in the car on the laptop, and today we’re going to watch another one. Great way to travel! Here’s a nice shot of Lake Wanaka I took two nights ago. Really pretty place.

We were feeling lethargic — a little ill, perhaps, or maybe just beat from working an impossible climb the day before — so we all decided to have a rest day in and around Milford Sound. Here’s a picture of that impossible climb. It’s a ridiculous 5.12c that’s got a bolt every three feet until a 15′ runout to the chains — with the crux being the last move. Goofy. Since you can’t actually work the move without taking a 20- to 30-footer, we used a dead tree to stick clip the anchor to be on toprope. Oh yeah, did I mention that the route is the crag’s warm up?! There’s another 5.12 — a 5.12d — but you have to climb a 5.13c to get to it. At least the area’s picturesque. It’s called Babylon, and you climb on the side of a cliff covered with waterfalls.

Anyway, the sound was only accessible by boat or foot (via the Milford Track) until the 1950s or so, when the Homer Tunnel was blasted through a kilometer of granite. Perhaps the goofiest postcard I’ve ever seen was a picture of the inside of the tunnel lit by a car headlight — and it doesn’t look like much of a tunnel, either. More of a mine shaft. The roadway inside is half dirt and all potholes, and there’s a continual seepage of water through the top. Kinda sketchy, actually, but at least it heads into one of the most gorgeous sections of the country.

We cruised through the tunnel to this place called The Chasm, and some of us took a dip in the aqua water of the swimming hole there, and afterwards we headed into the sound to take some nice post-storm images of Mitre Peak. While we were out in the tidal zone, we spied a really cool hawk that was trying to pluck a dead bird out of the water for lunch, so we started snapping away. I think the bird got a little paranoid that we were going to steal its lunch, so it actually charged me. Check out this series from my friend Greg.

I was trying to focus on the bird and it just wasn’t working, so then I put my camera down and looked up and the bird was hovering in front of me an arm’s length away. I backed up a few steps and almost fell over, and then the bird charged Greg.

Here are some of my favorite shots from that day…

So here are some of those Milford Track pictures I promised…