Goosebumps

February, 2010Behold: Goosebumps, 5.11a, 150m on Pared Pata de Pato.20 minutes up the talus field. Water with Tang, check. Rack, ropes, bolting kit, check, check and check. Josh, Vishal, clear skies, yups. Tabanos, dang. Looks like we got everything. Who wants to lead? I guess I will. Josh put it well: a rescue that humbled us all. I took lead, alright. What I didn’t expect was to be runout so far above my last piece, thinking it would pull anyways. Groundfall potential, ‘X’, makes me feel fuzzy, not warm.
Needless to say, we end up having discussions and putting in a few bolts. The climb varies a lot pitch to pitch. It has corners, walking a knife-edge rail, cracks, and slab, including a glorious slab traverse: the crux, of course.
Since this route was obviously one that others would like to climb, it became our philosophical duty to toss every last bruising block of loose rock off that route and to scrape every parasitic posse of glossy moss off. That meant loosing the curve on our nut tools, and the bristles on our brushes. What we didn’t expect was to want any of these things once they were gone.
Sitting on the ledge atop pitch 3, Josh was hammering in the bolt with a steady clink, clink. When all of a sudden, the hammerhead flies off the hammer. I thought it was a rock, watching it bounce off the wall and into the thick of the woods. We all laughed in disbelief. That is, until we saw that the bolt wasn’t completely in.
We had to look for loose rocks. But we had just finished watching them all bounce their way down the granite. I walked out on the ledge and near its edge I found one last decent-sized rock. Josh started pounding the rock, hoping that the bolt would be secure before the rock broke apart. It worked – and we’re off! We’re climbing for our lives now, running away from the thwards of angry, homeless ants, rampaging against us because we threw their rock roofs off!
The main tasks in front of us were not climbing this route, because it could be climbed quickly in a number of hours with one 70-meter rope. It was cleaning it and equipping it. I had purchased a cordless Hilti power drill with two batteries for this trip. However, because the refugio did not have electricity at the time, I couldn’t recharge it. So after the batteries were used up, which happened just as we were beginning this route, we had to bolt by hand. Now, usually bolting by hand means that you have a bolt kit with a drill bit, and a handle that makes it comfortable to hold and turn while also hammering. Josh had just sold his. I never had one. I did, however, bring hockey tape, which we used to make a round, sticky bulge on the drill bit, simulating a handle. As you will see in a number of these pictures, we are all bolting by hand, caveman style! This is notably more time-consuming than having a hand-drill or a power drill. On the other hand, it makes the experience more memorable while making drilling with a power drill seem ever so luxurious!
And, appropriately so, Josh coined the name Goosebumps for the route that gave us all shivers and piel de gallina. It’s a double-entendre because I had previously named the feature the route lies on Pared Pata de Pato, or foot of the duck, for its striking resemblance thereto.After cleaning and equipping the route, we went to conquer it. As a finishing touch of good tidings, Cornelius the Condor, who had once swooped by me, almost caressing my harness in Frey, Argentina, did so again. As he careened around the invisible corners of the sky, all three of us stopped climbing and belaying to pay our respects to the King of Patagonia!As first ascensionists who put a lot of time and effort into this route, it was our pleasure to wake up one day to some visitors, a rare occurrence in the newly opened Valle Trinidad. They wanted to climb our freshly scrubbed and beleagueredly bolted route! Josh had a newly written topo replete with drawings and an animated goosebump that he was happy to share with our guests. The two soon struck off up the talus field that we had hiked so many times before. With our monocular, we shared their progress and saw them hesitate at the different cruxes. We shouted victorious congratulations from the Food Rock to our friends. That is, before it was time again for us to suit up and lay siege on our unfinished projects that lay all around us in waiting!

Tatonka

January 31st-February 11th, February 21st, 2010New Route: Tatonka 5.10a, featuring: Goats, Chickens, and Lizards, 5.6R and El Ciego, 5.11b, RA conquering we did go! First up, Tatonka. The giant slab called and we came. The first 300 meters or so are a calf-aching unroped friction trek.Then there are a few moderate pitches. The route is very a la choose your own adventure. Hence the many variations, some worthy of being featured. Eventually the route comes to an excellently arching hand to finger crack at “The Trad Crag”, which sports three different and interesting two-pitch traditional routes before continuing to the summit!It took us about two weeks in total to finish this route. Why? It's not because I took too many photos while on lead, such as the photo above. The main culprit and suspect for stealing time was that we bolted almost the entire route by hand. Not by hand drill. I mean we took hockey tape and climbing tape and some duct tape and made a small handle for the drill bit, and we hammered that granite with all of our might!
Griping ensued. Laughter followed that. And we took turns. Since I was the one who had purchased the Hilti drill, I felt mostly responsible for our conundrum and may have taken more bolts than the others, but I still feel I owe them one! Luckily, I was able to have them both use the drill and feel the joy of putting in a bolt in 30 seconds as opposed to 30 minutes!In seeking another reason why this route took us so long to complete I look at its many variations. Being climbers through and through, we had no choice but to help ourselves to each and every one of them! Take, for example, the Goats, Chickens, and Lizards 5.6 R variation. These two pitches, pictured below, offer a fun and easy runout way to get from the base of the Trad Crag to the final roped pitch on Tatonka. The name of this route has its own history, too, which makes it that much more enjoyable for anyone who knows the three of us and the story. I don't really want to divulge the story, but let's just say there's a lot of love in the world just from the three of us.Here's a cool picture of a lizard, too. These lizards scampered all over the place in Cochamó and were our pals. They ate tabanos. We killed tabanos and gave them to the lizards. Born buddies, we were!A fortunate result of the many variations and changing contours on the route Tatonka is that the view varies greatly from pitch to pitch. You surmount different sections of rock, eliminating the previous view but gaining another. For starters, marching up 300-500 meters of slab and dike is something I had not previously done unroped. The view and exposure were both highly appreciated.The summit of Cerro Laguna is unequivalently gorgeous. You can hike around the top and play eyewitness to the crimes of beauty committed by each and every adjacent granite-walled valley.Speaking of gaining the summit. I’m from Maine, and having spent over a year in Bariloche, Argentina and Frey. Needless to say, I am comfortable with snow. My Chicago- and Denver-bred Special Ops buddies – if they are, in fact, from where they say they are from – were, however, not so fond of the snow. I distinctly recall seeing them tiptoeing delicately to gain solid rock ground again, where they felt much more at ease to scramble. They practically arrested me for running, sliding, and jumping my way down the snow packs on our descent. I don’t mean to give the impression that I’m reckless, either. I have rules based on observations that govern how fast and where I navigate the snow. I am especially wary, of course, of the areas nearest the edges of the rock where the melting tends to be greatest, and so forth.Rock and snow included, it was all great fun. To take off the ropes and just plunge upwards to an increasing view, as in the Sound of Music, but with more granite and sharper contrasts superimposed, was to revamp my pulse.The scale of grandeur in Cochamó bewilders even the bold. Josh virtuously attacked his variation to Tatonka, “El Ciego” with blind patience. He made noises I had never heard him make before. And he’s a weird noise making robot. The runout was palpable, especially as I dangled in its midst, close to Josh, snapping photos silently, as he stepped directly into his sea of fear. Do robots fear? The determination and strength that Josh hosts within, when put into action is truly a sight to behold and be impressed by. Check out the steep slab and the runout displayed in the following pictures.I forget that Vishal hasn’t been climbing long. The guy’s ripped. And he already has more first ascents than Armstrong has yellow jerseys. But what strikes me even more is that his ratio of climbing first ascents to established climbs is so polarized opposite of most climbers. He barely knows what it’s like to climb without cleaning and bolting. On a big wall. Cragging and bouldering must seem silly to him. Plastic even more so. I can barely imagine what this is doing to his expectations and desires. But he takes it all in stride. He lets us do the choosing. We tried to tell him, “Vish, you get to choose what route we open next,” to which he responded, “Guys, I don’t even know what I’m looking for!”Also, both Vishal and Josh speak Spanish, which is nice for a change: I like having gringo companions with whom we can communicate in Spanish or English, and who can take care of themselves in conversations with locals. Moreover, speaking Spanish is a symptom of a type of traveler who likely likes to adapt, be considerate, and get involved. As a result, we all get a long like keys in a cod, bees in a bod, knees in a nod, or peas in a pod – a spacepod.It seems like just this morning we had mate and cereal with granola and oatmeal, and left our boots and shoes on the bottom part of the giant slab to begin our hike up to climb Cerro Laguna’s Tatonka...

Special Ops

Late January, Early February, 2010Special Ops. That’s who we are. We have nicknames, too, of course. There’s Robot, Token, and Thor. Or, respectively: Josh, Vishal, and myself, previously called out as milkshake. My first interactions with these characters took place in a game of rock bocce ball in the La Junta camping area. I should note that at the time “S” Joe was with them. As was Gary. Gary had the camera and was eating up the experience like a New Yorker eats up bagels and thin crusted, pizza sized pizza slices.

Although every individual had their own characteristics, such as Vishal’s drunken dwarf persona, or Josh’s omniscient yet incapable, the dynamic of the group was also fascinating and, well, dynamic. Let me briefly introduce you to these two pals of mine who taught me many valuable lessons, some of which I am whole-heartedly trying to forget! First up, Joshua Cook. Hailing from Denver/Boulder, Colorado, he stands with a shaved head. He likes his hair short and keeping it short was one of his prerogatives during a rainy week in Puerto Varas. Josh is gutsy. He also cares more than he appears to care at second glance and third inspection, and really he likes big hugs. He wears a big poofy down jacket, which just aids him in begging to be hugged. Actually, come to think of it, so did Vishal. Anyways, he has more stories than zebras have tongues and stripes combined, and can share them in 4D. A part-time helmet decorator, he's been known to carry his own travel kit for making art. I have a suspicion that he needs to release the inner artist every once in a while, else he must submit himself to being taken over by him. But seriously, his writing and art is legit, too legit to give up. Or go unnoticed. Ummm, here he is sitting on Food Rock!
Next up, Vishal Patel. Vishal's from Chicago and on more than one occasion invited me to come visit his family there - whether or not he was present - for some excellent cooking. That's how inviting Vishal is. On the flipside, Vishal is also very accepting. Most of the time Josh and I would have some grande plan or keen scheme that we were working on and before we could even invite Vishal he was on board, as excited about our could-bes and may-bes as we were. Vishal's energy and perspective resonate invisibly with those around him. A tragedy could strike and Vishal would have you reacting constructively before you even opened your mind up to think. Really, I'm still trying to figure him out. His memory is great. His attitude is at altitude for aptitude. And, beyond having a cool uncle, I want to know why and how he came to be this way. Really, there's nothing wrong with Vishal. Better yet, he's exceptional. That's why we called him Token. He was too good to get a weird nickname. Sorry, Vishal. Until you show us what's weird about you, you're stuck with Token. Deal?Back to the story. Soon I was lured into an effort to climb a new route up Cerro Arcoiris. Or so I thought. Of course, before climbing Arcoiris, one must first get to Arcoiris. I spent at least one day with them hiking up streams and little waterfalls, jumping into rivers and pushing through thickets. There was lots of laughter to be had. They sang the milkshake song and I danced. Picnicing in our failed attempt, they shared some luxurious tortilla with me and I cut them salami. After that, I left them to continue trying their luck at that rainbow that didn’t touch down while I went off to follow my own pursuit: opening a trail through Valle Trinidad. It wasn’t until I had it opened and told them of all the gloriously virgin walls of solid granite that they themselves started to hear the sirens a-calling. They came.Our first escapade together in the valley was not a new climb. The three of them were heading up to Cerro Trinidad to try Alendalaca, 9 pitches, 7b (French grading system). We crossed paths halfway down the old Trinidad trail as I hiked down with Tate Shepherd after over a week of serious first ascents and trail pioneering (Read: Riding the Whale, Evolución, New Trail). They asked me if I would join them in the morning and make two pairs rather than one team of three. I was exhausted. My hands were swollen to Hulk size from all of the climbing, sawing, and machete use, and the burning muscle-growing sensation in my legs was so constant that they burned even in my dreams. And yet, their bright smiling eyes reminded me of how great it is to push yourself. The dream must continue. So I said, “Maybe.” Josh laid it down, “No, we need to know if you’re going to join us: yes or no.” “Oh,” I paused, weighing my tired legs in my mind, “Ok. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Oops! Tate couldn’t believe I had said ok, which made two of us. Made two of us laugh at me. I worked logistics in my head as we hiked our packs back down to the camping area and refugio.Here are the logistical results: I started hiking back up in the darkness at midnight, arriving in good time, but even more depleted before an intense a.m. climb. My eyes were tired because my headlamp was meager and because I hadn’t slept yet. Joe was in his hammock under the bivy boulder, where I’d left my tent. I crawled in to sleep and dreamt away. Soon I was awoken for the climb. It felt like I hadn’t slept at all.There’s more to the story of this climb than I’m going to tell you. It includes runouts, stellar, scary pitches, a peering condor, a dislocating shoulder on the second pitch, and a bail involving a few lost stoppers and a pair of cold climbers hunkering down as an approaching storm showed us how unprepared we were. Not the most impressed I’ve made myself. But, a very interesting start to some great friendships and a special camaraderie! Happy to be OK, and disgruntled for our silly mistakes, we snap a group photo before hiking back to the Bivy Boulder. It was something like 11 silly p.m. when we got back to eat. What a day. I’m glad the storm didn’t crash down on us while we were on the wall.A storm did indeed come to Cochamó, though. Somehow they convinced me that seafood, a restock mission, and a taste of civilization was just what I needed after two months away in the rainforest. Supermarkets seemed strange, with all their fluorescents and bags and boxes and cartons and jugs that remained even when no one wanted them. So many plastics, I couldn’t imagine more. You could have colored the plastics and had a McDonald’s play place right there in the supermarket. But they were right. I needed more vegetables, dried fruits and variety in my meals. And fresh seafood tasted very good, too.As did a vegetarian sandwich made with homemade mayonnaise by an awesome turban-touting chef with whom I exchanged jokes every late night while we waited for him to make the sandwiches right in front of us. The tempest lasted about a week. We just imagined ourselves stuck in a tent watching waterfalls cruising down the granite walls, and we were happy that we’d come down to town. “S” Joe left us to travel elsewhere. And we were left the three of us, Special Ops, to test our wits on new walls!Tatonka, as you will read, was the first bull to fall to Special Ops’ keen climbing team. We had, however many smaller escapades on the side. Thanks to the can of whoop-ass that Vishal carried in his booming chest, and the never-ending supply of yearning for risk that robot Josh had, our rest days soon fell prey to side adventures. We would go with Josh to Canine Cave and open a single pitch here or there. Rather, Josh would open. Vishal and I would follow, wondering all the while how Josh managed to climb with such a giant pair of, um, vision and commitment.One day, after opening Tatonka and Goosebumps (See: upcoming posts on Tatonka and Goosebumps), the three of us were hiking down the 300m of slab with our harnesses still on. Nearing the bottom, I stopped with Josh to take a look around at our incredible surroundings. Green and granite were everywhere to be seen. One version of paradise sprawled in panorama in front of us. Thus far I had chosen what formations we set off to discover. It was time to share the decision-making reigns. Namely, it was Josh’s turn to pick out where we climbed and which summit we would strive to reach next. Josh looked towards the Tetris wall. He had already made up his mind.This brought us up the same talus field that we knew so well, leading us up past Canine Cave. First we had a struggle of an attempt up a few pitches of a previously tried-and-failed, undocumented route up Pared Tetris, as we were calling it, on Cerro Gorila. We, too, were turned away. Undeterred, we came back and pulled out all of our aces, reaching our third summit together. Blockhead, we named the route, for its many blocks, loose and intact. For all of its inherent risk, the route has some quite enjoyable pitches and it was a lot of fun to switch gears from the time-consuming method of cleaning and bolting to the light and fast style of running up and down leaving only minimal, necessary traces: a few bits of grass pulled out of a crack here, a bit of tat around a tree to rappel, etc. Quick and light…it felt so right!I hope I get to climb/camp with Joshua Cook and Vishal Patel again soon. But wait: there’s more! We had the entire month of February! You didn’t think we merely conquered one wall, did you?! That was just one day!Stay tuned for more on Special Ops’ philosophies, discoveries, and memories.

New Trail

December 2009 - March 2010Think of the last time you were aggravated. Maybe you were waiting in a locked, hot car waiting for someone to finish shopping. Maybe you were sweating profusely and there was no option for cooling off. Maybe you were in a headlock, or stuck upside down against your will. This isn’t what most people imagine when they think of opening a new trail in the rainforest. But there I was, confused, aggravated, stuck, sweating, and upside down in a tangle of bamboo. And then it dawned on me. This is what I came here for.
Let me walk you through the steps I took in opening this trail.
There is an art that exists before opening a trail. Before engineering the trail and deciding where it should – and should not – go. And that’s information gathering. The art consists of tromping through the valley on foot; smooshing around the marshes; practicing your laser-dodging art gallery robbery techniques to walk through the entangling thickets of bamboo; hop-hiking up falling tetris fields of talus without falling yourself; and making note, without breaking much, of where you’ve been and where the trail should go. This artistic process endures claustrophobic-inducing conditions without the ability to repair. That is, you cannot yet begin cutting until you are sure you have found the best path. It is your duty as a trail engineer to cut the best path. Otherwise, other, better paths may be cut, damaging yet more vegetation. So, in order to assure a single path outcome, much adventuring must be had.The goal of this path, for me, was to get to the Pass, or as I came to call it, El Paso Querido del Caso Perdido. As an aside, I think that’s a very gringo-y name for the pass because it’s a rhyming play on words and I not only don’t mind that it resonates a certain element of tragedy, but I rather like it. (It translates to The Loved Pass of The Lost Case.) But, to be completely honest with you here, the trail was not merely to reach the pass: my dream and nightmare since November 2009 has been to climb El Monstruo, the giant 1300-meter tall granite wall on the other side of the pass. It is my goal to climb a first ascent up it. Opening the trail was my way of getting there while giving something useful and worthwhile back to the global climbing and trekking community. As things turned out, I was not to climb El Monstruo this past 2009-2010 season. Now, instead of being a summer goal, it has become a lifelong goal of mine; I hope and expect to begin this immense on taking within two years’ time. Cross your fingers and hope to climb!Once I began exploring the valley, finding giant boulders to camp underneath, streams to cross, and different types of forests – some of alerces, the redwoods of South America, some of bamboo, and some of dead bamboo – it started opening up to me. It became clear, step-by-step, bit-by-bit, that my history would be more intertwined with Valle Trinidad than I had expected.For instance, departing from the refugio on my first day hiking and exploring, I distinctly recall telling everyone that I expected to reach Cerro Laguna without cutting anything. I returned late that night having barely reached the backside of Pared de Gorila at the mouth of the valley, barely finding the path that already existed to that point! Trekking on pre-existing trails in Cochamó is exhausting enough, let alone forcing your way forwards off trails! Keeping notes on how much progress I made daily helped me to accurately forecast progress and estimate how long it would take me to reach various landmarks. This held true for not only exploring, but also blazing and subsequently opening as well.Tate Shepherd, my newfound valley friend helped me a lot to open the trail. We made a tremendous 12+-hour effort to reach the Pass together before December ended, before we began cutting. The views were amazing. The valley impressed us, as did the next and adjacent valleys. When he got the chance, he took a week off of work as guide. I was so happy to show off the work that I’d done since he’d last scene the unopened, barely-blazed trail. We camped under the bivy boulder with Matt and Asa, two guys from Boulder, Colorado. They had some ready-dinners in packets, something like Jamaican Beef Stew. We cooked some pasta with salami and some prized, rare-for-me leftover meat from Horacio and Tatiana that Tate had brought up. Mmm! I remember how nice it felt to finally share the Bivy Boulder with not one but three others, feeding a fire and exchanging times.Consider trail engineering as the deepwater soloing of trail work, requiring the bare essentials with respect to gear. Trail opening, then, would be the bouldering. All you need is a fold-up saw, machete, and empty water bottle. Rubber boots and rainwear are also highly recommended. It’s lightweight, nonstop work. Bread with jam has never tasted so good. Cold, fresh water hits your hands as you dip your water bottle in the stream to fill up, your eyes catching the giant trees and huge patches of bamboo that you’ve been tossing about, off the path. It’s not a first ascent, but it is a first, and seeing people experience it for the first time is a grande opening. I get excited just like the first time I walked it. J.B. knew just what to say to me when we met for the first time in person. I remember seeing him walk up to me and my buddies Josh and Vishal, sitting on the Food Rock by Cerro Laguna. This guy with a cap and dirty, ripped pants walked up to us. He asked if I was Nate. I said yes. He said he had a complaint about the trail: there were some twigs that wrapped around his feet in some sections. I couldn’t’ve chuckled more happily.Later, some of the only trekkers to visit the recently opened upper valley that season gave me another compliment. They were three Chileans, talking about how new the trail was; they’d been there a few years back and it hadn’t been there then. They said it looked like someone had brought a chainsaw all the way up there! I smiled, and thanked them, telling them I had opened it…with a foldup saw!But don’t let these reviews make you think the trail is a breeze. It crosses talus fields. It hops streams. Bamboo will grow over certain parts of the trail as sure as rain will fall downwards towards the earth. And you must be careful as with practically all trails in Cochamó, when opening or using the trail. Bamboo is dangerous. When cutting bamboo, it sharpens the bamboo as a spear or lance, and if you aren’t careful, your next cutting motion may find you impaling yourself with a previously cut piece of bamboo. When hiking sections of cut bamboo, it is possible to walk into bamboo that grows at the same angle as your line of sight, making it hard to spot. I’ve been stabbed in the ear this way; it’s very difficult to see some of the bamboo. Another hazard is the low-lying, cut bamboo. Since many parts of these trails become muddy and thus slippery even with trekking boots, falls are commonplace. These falls become dangerous when surrounded by low, cut bamboo as one can also spike themselves on these stuck, green, natural knives. Luckily, Cochamó attracts a tough, well-informed breed of adventurers and accident incidents are few and far between.Another consideration for opening the trail was its end use. One of my pet peeves while carrying huge packs of camping and climbing gear is to have clothesline branches that make me contort or worse yet unexpectedly catch my pack and send me to the ground. So, while opening this trail I took it upon myself and the occasional team to open it wide enough and with enough head room for tall pack-wielding trekkers and climbers to easily navigate without being super-encumbered by the trail’s overly curious neighbors. Thanks to improved clearance and freedom of foot movement, what would otherwise take at least five hours without the trail can now be done in just one…with a huge pack of gear.So how do you ensure that users use one path rather than creating more? I’m of the mindset that it’s better to do something once and to do it correctly rather than to have subsequent iterations, each attempting to improve upon the previous, erroneous course. Trail opening with its inherent vegetation loss is no different. In order to ensure that one path is done correctly so that others are not created, which would increase the amount of vegetation cut, good trail opening moves beyond the first step of cutting the path to be user-friendly. Even if the trail is a wise choice for navigating the valley and its walls, it is not going to be used if it is not easy to follow and obviously marked. Therefore, it is important to indicate the trail well to prevent cases of lost trail users unintentionally and unnecessarily trampling other vegetation. For this reason I carried rolls of brightly colored pink and orange non-adhesive tape, which I tied around trees’ limbs’ visible points when possible, such that trail users can easily locate the next marker long before the last marker goes of sight. Even at night. In fact, to test how well the trail follows and flows it helped immensely to use, cut, and mark the trail during night sessions. If it can be followed easily at night, day traffic should be a breeze.

Secondly, updating maps and information databases, such as those maintained in “the bible” of topos and maps in the refugio, decreases the likelihood that alternate trails will be opened, intentionally or not.I don’t know what else to say about opening the Valle Trinidad Trail, except that it is a work in progress. I still think about the day in, day out process of opening the trail. I love seeing results come to fruition and friends and fellow climbers and trekkers being able to navigate with ease and hustle through what was previously a huge burden and hassle. Moreover, it was a remarkable blessing to be able to create a path where once there was not. The bond between my blood and that of Valle Trinidad and its history runs that much thicker for the trail. Before moving to Patagonia I used to think the 30 minute hike to get to Exit 32 climbing in Washington was a hike. Then I realized that having a 3- or 5-hour trek to get to the climbing destination wasn’t a chore, but a gift. Cochamó took this new mentality and raised it even higher: the adventure isn’t just the summit and the view you have when you’re there; the adventure is in how you got to the summit, the trail of trials and tribulations, and the changes in views both external and, perhaps more relevantly, internal. So it is that I rejoice over the opportunity I had to make a trail that lead to a valley where I then had first choice in what climbs I wanted to open. I wouldn’t have it any other way.Huge thanks go, of course and as always are due, to Daniel Seeliger and Silvina Verdún for their out-of-this-world support and charismatic encouragement, and to all those who helped to literally carve this part of history: Tate, Ed [2nd picture below, helped me cut trail for an entire day while educating me on scientific names], Matt, Asa, Claire, Paul [Pictured below, Claire and Paul, battling wetness and illness, fought bamboo like true warriors after the rain thwarted our goal to climb], et al. May there be more to come!Please stay tuned and enjoy upcoming posts on some of the routes that were opened once the trail was in a respectably commutable condition.