I have been sad. Caught in a vicious cycle of doubt, paralysis, and more doubt. Existential doubt about everything I do, why I do it, how I do it, when I do it, and if I do it. This state of mind has been exhausting, juxtaposing inactivity with restlessness; my mind has been filled with ambiguity; everything is equivocal; there are no clear paths, just an intersection that has me trapped.

This had an effect. On my relationship, on my academic progress, on my evaluation of my past, on my perception. I feel alone if I am not; I feel like failure when I succeed.

All this has not been true for climbing. My sadness has been punctuated by bliss; whenever I went climbing I forgot for a moment. I do not know why. Climbing makes me aware and afraid of death, climbing hurts, climbing is expensive, climbing is completely meaningless, climbing is dangerous, climbing should reflect my state of mind. But it does not. While I have doubts about everything, I do not doubt climbing. I put in the next piece and climb on. I yell, ‘I hate climbing’, when I am scared, but am filled with satisfaction when I make it to the top. My belayers by now are probably very familiar with this process I go through in many climbs. Objectively this process sucks, but it does not feel that way. I would really like to turn my world upside down, doubt climbing and love everything else. But it does not work that way.

I was dreading thanksgiving. I would go to some thanksgiving dinner with colleagues. Everybody would talk about the department, the professors, their work. I would have nothing to contribute, I would just envy the other’s ability to speak about those things without being upset. I hate being envious, but I can’t stop it. It would be better not to go.

I am not sure what a synchronicity is, but it felt like one if I was asked, just a few days before we would leave, to go to Indian Creek. This invitation meant so much to me. It made me feel less alone, it replaced my apathy with nervous preparation, and it let me do what I love.

Indian Creek is far away. 1074mi. The car was tight with four people and lots of gear. But I enjoyed the drive. I liked to see the Western United States go by the window, and I liked the random conversations and podcasts.

Camping at Indian Creek seemed a little lawless. No campground hosts, not fees, just lots of climbers and lots of cars on every campsite. Thanksgiving at the Creek is crowded. People reserved campsites with chairs and water jugs. When we rolled in after midnight, we decided to camp in one of the reserved spots. The next morning we were told it would be fine if we stayed. The original occupants had reserved three huge camp spots, just in case they would need them. We did not feel bad about taking one.

Indian Creek is one of the crack climbing capitals, no doubt. But trad climbing here is a little like sport climbing. The approaches are short and you can put in as much gear as you want (if you borrowed enough from your friends). The routes are rather straightforward. Usually around 30-35m (better have a knot), either a corner or a splitter, and feature a consistent size. The classics are basically the same move over and over again: hand jam, foot jam, hand jam, foot jam… It’s great to perfect your technique. Also, every climb is a stellar classic, or how the guidebook expresses it arrogantly, ‘one star climbs here would earn five stars in most other climbing areas’ (it’s kind of true). Case in point, after doing Generic Crack (5.10 hands) we got on Pigs in Space (5.10+ hands). Despite the latter being out of the way and less well rated, we all agreed on it being the more fun climb.

I got on many of the classic hand cracks (Generic, 3am, Super, Incredible …). While I got the onsight for some, I pumped out on many. So I decided that one take should still be a redpoint because the routes are so long that anywhere else they would be two pitches 🙂 5.11s were mostly tight hands and lieback climbs. I needed many takes but could climb them clean on TR. The limiting factor obviously being that I was trying to put in gear every 5 feet. In the end, I climbed 29 pitches over 6 days. Given the length of the routes, that’s pretty much El Capitan. Now I just have to get the time down to two days (maybe also loose some fear of heights), then I am ready to climb the Nose .

I got pink climbing tights for the trip. They taught me two things. For one, climbing in tights feels great and everybody compliments you (probably sarcastically). Secondly, you do not have to go far beyond a social norm to be treated as the other: on the drive back we stopped at 2am at a gas station in Eastern Oregon that was just filling up with hunters preparing for whatever they do. When I went to the bathroom (still being in pink tights) this guy says to me, “what the fuck, I thought you are a woman?!”, to which I reply, “because I am wearing pink pants?”. His reaction is to yell at me “what the fuck is wrong with you”. At this point I got a little scared and fled the bathroom. While this experience is pretty insignificant in terms of actual discrimination others experience, it taught me something about how fast a presumably safe space can become a hostile environment.

There are many more things to record about Indian Creek. But let it be enough to say that it is a very unique and beautiful place. It also gave me the best thanksgiving so far (to be fair, I have only had 4).

Thanks to Irina, Dan, Abe, Paula, Liz, Forest, Autumn, Ben, Ramey, and all the other people I got to meet.

To come back to the beginning, those 10 days made me very happy. But now I am sitting in my office and feel just like before. I am just sitting here writing blog posts instead of doing any meaningful work. For the latter, I just have too many doubts. Climbing is obviously not the solution. But climbing is the most awesome distraction I have!

More pictures.