This new Nikon - More autofocus points than you could shake a stick at. A photo dump.
Daniel and Eliza
Little hike up Sanitas casual hiking trail
Bear Peak not so casual hiking trail
Pretty light on the hike down
Arjan made us dinner on his last night in the United States
Yevgeny has some new bloom
Arjan in some pretty evening light on the patio
Tequila tuesday on a friday
Testing autofocus
More shots of Tequila?
Could be a good idea
Ok sure, it’s a great idea
Photo by Eliza Earl
A cute shrub
This week we celebrated Greg’s 32nd birthday. I took a whirlwind trip to Vegas where I DP’d my first spot for Yeti with another all female crew. It was totally amazing in every way. I can’t wait to shoot more car stuff, next time. My only regret is that I didn’t get dirtier, that I didn’t break a filter getting a sick shot, and generally that we played it a little too safe. I have no doubt that the edit will be sick, but next time I’m getting IN THE DIRT.
I also said goodbye to my Grandmother this week. Her favorite colors were Mauve and the purple she often dyed her hair with. She was a total firecracker, she survived cancer. She took care of my grandpa for his entire life. She helped with us when my parents needed it. She was strong.
While filled with sadness, I also feel inspired by her strength and resilience.
Happy to be home.
Tulips on Greg’s 32nd birthday.
Valley of Fire
Sarah Steele giving me Blue Steal
A pre-shoot junk show. Diane, my Z Cam E2 is really getting into her groove. I made the sunshade on the flight to Vegas using tape and cardboard.
Jen - one of the more lovely people I’ve met recently.
My grandmother died yesterday. Stormy skies behind these beautiful cherry blossoms. Taking photos of the flowers helps.
Managed to achieve the SKT (slowest known time) on Sanitas today.
Marisa had a fancy fanny
home.
We made a big drive recently. Took some pictures along the way. As usual.
Spring officially sprung in Bend, Oregon.
And then in Boulder, Colorado
Though she seemed a little confused.
Made the drive from Bend to Boulder. Stopped to get Tacos in Boise, Idaho.
Where I continued my passion for street lamp photography.
I recently made a big transition. I am using Nikon. It’s a weird thing. Consignment for the moment, but maybe someday these will be mine. For now, I try not to scratch the lenses of things I don’t officially own.
We stopped in Rifle, Colorado to climb and break up the drive. I’ve been trying to use every opportunity as means to use the new camera. The Nikon Z6ii. This was shot with the 85 1.8. Looks so dreamy, super happy.
I love him.
Fashion or function - we can’t know.
Pursuing a successful photography career has always felt like being tossed out to sea. Treading water to stay afloat. Waves of uncertainty overpowering any sense of false confidence. If you’re lucky, a good opportunity grants you a set of proverbial water wings. You grow stronger and the rough seas become no match for your learned resilience.
Years of treading metaphorical water left me wondering if I’d ever be free of this endless sea. What does success mean anyways? Is success that perfect job, is it money, or is it simply creating work that you’re proud of?
I suddenly realized - I’ve been swimming in someone else’s ocean. A pre-determined version of success that I thought was mine. I looked through my portfolio and saw - not an unsuccessful woman trying to achieve the status of those in front of me. I saw photos I was proud of. I saw work that felt meaningful. I saw success at last, and felt the firm sand from the solid earth beneath me.
Jasna Hodžić taping over a split tip so deep, it looked like a portal into the 4th dimension.
Jasna Hodžić gets close on The Big R, 5.14a
Romance at picnic lunch
He may onsight your project but he can’t work this stick clip
My current favorite rock that Dad made.
How he carves out his shapes.
The internet super highway is a scary place.
Paul experiences separation anxiety while Lorna climbs away from him.
tryin to be like colette
Waiting for Len in the Phoenix airport
Katie Ives recently asked me to write a photo essay for Alpinist Magazine. Over the phone, I paced the room. One foot in front of the other across a deteriorating section of shag carpet. The thought of writing for Alpinist concerned me because I was rusty. My last piece of writing was probably mummified under a decade of digital dust. I feel rusty when I haven’t picked up my camera in 3 days, what happens when I haven’t pick up a paragraph in 3 years?
The following week I texted James Lucas, ex editor of Climbing magazine and wrote: “I hate this.”
Writing felt like a I was pruning a shrub during a teenage growth spurt. The process felt endless, and frankly I was frustrated that it felt this hard.
When I was in my 20’s I blogged religiously to my 7 followers, including my parents. The era when J Star was in orbit and Joe Kinder’s psyche was still radiating from the tips of Dave Graham’s hair follicles. I did photo dumps, I wrote about adventures and hardships. I wrote blogs on planes, I wrote blogs while drunk, but most notably I wrote blogs all the time.
Last week I finished my Alpinist article, and Katie even said she thought I was an OK writer. Truth be told, I had her in email checkmate and her only real option was to serve me a compliment.
Regardless, I proudly pruned my teenage shrub into a tangible shrub shape, with of course, a little path down the middle. The process was longer, and harder than I wanted it to be. My only solution is to continue to write often enough, to prevent my skills from further digital mummification. A place for photos, words. Etc.
[Holler if you’re the only one who got this Monty Python reference]
End of an Era - Daniel leaves bend.
My birthday was nothing special, but at least I made special pancakes.
I took this photo in between burns on my project. The guy didn’t want the photo. “Nah, I’m good”. He said.
Looking for warmth on very cold nights outdoor dining.
That heat lamp was not really doing it. Jacksons Corner.
I took a photo of hangdogging that I liked.
Jules and I went out to Smith so I could show her how I film climbing.
Smith Rock is basically like the Ceuse of Oregon. Is usually what they say. Just kidding, this rock looks like absolute choss. At least Mira made it better.
I am crushing his head.
It only took 10 hours to undo 3 years of disarray from my hard drive. Complacency that festered into anarchy. Thousands of images seen running nude through dusty backups while duplicate exports lay quivering in silence, praying to the big terabyte in the sky that they won't be deleted.
The experience has been sobering. Alas, it was a major step forward for my organizational weakness. The highlight was getting to wade through the sea of memories and relive each place, one (categorized by date) folder at a time.
Which brings me to - Rocklands.
One of the files running around without any pants on - A South African Sunrise
We spent the month of June running around like a couple of gazelles in the hot African sun. Greg and I were trying a tasty arete called Tomorrow I'll be Gone. In an effort to get a closer look at the crux high off the ground, I used my 200mm lens.
Disappointing was an understatement.
It took the entire trip to come to the realization that Greg's beta was better than my beta, and I relied on a series of pre-dawn wake up calls and partner yahtzee to send.
For Greg, graced with the first cold day of our trip, he finally got to stand on top of Tomorrow I'll be Gone. A climb that he'd begrudgingly spent more days on than any other problem in Rocklands. Great success!
Greg looking down on Tomorrow I'll be Gone
The next boulder de jour was El Corazon, a heart shaped cube featuring a huge sideways lung to crimp. On warmer days, he'd tried the finishing moves on the safety of a rope.
When he stuck the crux move I was elated, but the rest is kind of history. Greg slipped with his hand on the lip of the boulder, millimeters away from sending. Instead he landed on the single layer of foam, which was enough to shatter his ankle.
A previous attempt on El Corazon, v13
After Greg's surgery in Cape Town, we flew home to spent the next few months recovering in Portland. Four months post-op we both knew he was going to need a second surgery. There were still bone floaters, a hole in his Talus, and his Tibia had a serious snaggle tooth scenario that was causing impingement.
We began the long and horrible process of meeting with various surgeons in the PNW. Every doctor we saw had a different song to sing. We even paid one Seattle doctor $800 to tell us that Greg would never hike again, and his cartilage was ruined. Thankfully, we kept looking with the support and encouragement our friends (Rudy, Logan, Cassie, SJ, Jonathan, Mike).
A couple weeks later Greg was climbing 5.14 again - at Smith Rock no less. Maybe he couldn’t hike, but he could still slab campus. Once a mad rock athlete, always a mad rock athlete.
While we waited to find the right surgeon, we traveled south to the VRG. Greg invested in some top shelf trekking poles and we were off to climb at another crag with a manageable approach. I wanted to try something hard at the VRG to take my mind off of the whirlwind of life stress. So I picked Don't Call Me Dude, a fierce little route with a fuerte boulder problem at the 3rd bolt. When we got there, it was just me and 40 other people trying it, so it was super chill.
Looking completely zen and relaxed in the crux. Paige De Kock Photo
After what Greg claimed was the longest belay of his life, I made it to the anchor having done all the moves. Ten days later, and much to my surprise, I one hung from under the crux at the third bolt to the top. I was confident I could do the route.
Meanwhile we received a call from The Steadman Clinic - A world renowned sports medicine orthopedic hospital in Vail, CO. Upon meeting with us, the foot and ankle surgeon at Steadman seemed enthusiastic and positive about Greg’s outlook. He accepted our case and we left with surgery booked for February 6th. For the first time since the day Greg fell in Rocklands, there was some light at the end of the tunnel.
We returned to the VRG, tried to focus on our projects and watched our friends send literally the whole crag. First Nik Berry, then Sam Elias, and Pincus, then Michaela and Paige and Emily! Greg sent Horse Latitudes and Route of all Evil. Paige sent a rig from her life list, Nessessary Evil and Emily sent Don't Call me Dude. So much try hard from all the Slaydies and Sendlemen at the crag. Honorable mention to Nick and Joel on Fall of man!
Getting to work DCMD with Emily was wonderufl and reduced the sting of my post-vail regression when I got to see her slay it for both of us.
On February 4th I drove to Vail knowing that this could be the end of the ankle saga. All the stress and uncertainty leading up to this appointment started to fade, and being with Greg throughout this process proved to be the only thing that really mattered to me.
After the operation our surgeon enthusiastically explained that Greg's cartilage had looked better than expected (F-you Seattle doctor), and the surgery was a success. A stem cell, bone marrow soup was poured into the (smaller than expected) hole in his Talus, and left to marinate at 350 degrees for 6 weeks. Considering Greg’s age and health, he’s expected to be at the high end of the spectrum for recovery. Yay!
Again, the first and only good news we’ve received this entire time. I can't even explain in words the relief we feel. Thank you to all of our supportive friends and family. This process has been very difficult, and it really helped knowing all of you were there for us.
We’re currently in Boulder where we’ll stay until Greg is recovered. He's going to be non-weight bearing for 6 weeks, and full weight bearing by 10 weeks. I have some work trips planned for March, and maybe I’ll squeeze in a return trip to the VRG for my unfinished business on Don't Call me Dude.
Photo by Arjan De Kock
Koalas. Those square shaped prince and princesses of the eucalyptus forest. Those fluffy grey balls of joy. So wise, perched high in their rent controlled eucalyptus condos. Likely tired from a long night of filing their taxes, or wistfully dreaming of their upcoming vacation to Barbados. A real highlight of the visit has been these adorable tree-kitties.
Then of course you have your Kangaroos. The creeps of the Australian Outback. Making direct eye contact for just long enough to make you both uncomfortable. This is usually followed by a breaking point in which they bound away, mocking you with their gazelle-like agility and grace, and zig zagging into oncoming traffic while laughing hysterically.
The Emu. We're all embarrassed about the way you look.
As for the climbing. We came here with one intention, The Taipan wall. The wooly worm shaped orange wall that one could only dream to visit. Perfect stone, so far away.
I think it's always a challenge to set goals on these short trips. You don't want to leave empty handed, but you want to challenge yourself. Thankfully the lines we both wanted to do, were both striking and too perfect to pass up. Greg set his sights on Groove Train, probably one of the most beautiful routes I've ever seen. It starts with a heinous looking 13a that Greg joked to be the crux of the entire route, 14b.
Greg flashing Groovy, the first pitch of Groove Train. He flashed it, then he un-flashed it, then he sent it again, then he sent the whole route in 8 tries.
Greg doing what he does best. Splitting all of his tips.
Here's Mike on the full span crux of Groovy.
And here's Mike sticking the last hard move of Groove Train.
Leslye working her way up the ultra-classic Mr. Joshua. So cordial that Mr. Joshua. Monocle and all.
Leslye lowers after a working burn on Mr. Joshua.
On rest days we hiked, hunted for Koalas, and went and watched the madness that is Arapiles.
Here, a young peter pan attempts a barefoot free solo before down climbing back to safety. What you can't see is his headlamp. Always prepare for darkness at 11am. Always.
#baewatch
We already knew this, but Australians are really nice. Here's Stu taking the king of all whippers on Snakes on a Train, a 14a link up that links a 12c first pitch with the upper headwall on Groove Train.
Just have a seat why don't you.
My goal for the Taipan wall was Serpentine, 13b. Probably one of the most famous routes of it's grade in the world. The only problem, was that I was scared like a little tiny kitten inside of a tiny teacup. Scared for no real reason at all actually...and I almost convinced myself not to try it at all.
Thankfully, I got the fuck over it and went up the route, quickly one-hanging and finally sending. Here's Greg jumaring up to belay me. So nice this one.
The last 20 feet of Serpentine is incredible. You finish at the top of cliff, and if you're me, you pull the lip and just sit there for a second...shaming yourself for ever doubting the chance to climb this route in the first place. Then you jump off, since there's no anchor... Thanks Vikki and Colette for the beta and encouragement <3
Projects finished, Greg and I sampled some other routes before heading east on a whim to check out the Blue Mountains. Here's the amazing Venom, 13a. (photo by Greg) So. Good that wooly worm.
Pick a man that can spell your name, is what my mother always said.
Blue Mountains. Not pretty.
Greg thinking skinny for his project at Eliphinstone.
So here we are, Blue Mountains till the end of the week. Then we shall leave these adorable, Koala filled lands.
Thanks for the socks, mom.
I know I know, these aren't #moonboard photos. You're probably feeling confused by this. Maybe you're sitting down, reading this on your laptop while clutching your iPhone in an attempt to study that benchmark v9 you failed on last night.
Alas, all I have for you is photos of outside rock climbing. A simple distraction from the daily realization that the sky is falling, and behind the ceiling of broken clouds, is a giant manchild who looks like an expired cheeto.
So here you have some photos from nature, in the South Eastern United States. The best bouldering this side of the Mississippi.
Jonathan on The Shield
Greg primps his project. Mani Pedi.
The old 'attempt to take photos while spotting' trick
The SE has the prettiest features in all the land. If you don't like it, you probably don't like rock climbing.
And it was a lovely day of dancing with shadows. Isn't that nice?
Matt Ginley with the green hat beta on a v10 traverse across the Deception Boulder
Me on Super Mario. Polaroid by Jessa
The cold day routine with Edwin and Ali
Julie exhibiting her strength on an attempt at repeat glory. She's so strong and niceeeee.
Julie on Red House
Me on Deception. Photo by Greg.
Mandi crushing slopers
Greg taking the whip on The Shield
Greg warms up on Surfer Dead, 11b. Amazing pockets with a committing crux that comes in the last moves.
Wide view of The Diablo Wall. Greg climbing through the juggy pockets on Surfer Dead on the left side of the cave.
To get out of Diablo wall, you either send your project or climb out soaking wet on the 10d pictured here.
Warming up on Surfer Dead
Greg doing a little route finding
Didn't find the route.
Pretty Things
The famous dyno on loskot and two smoking barrels.
Friend.
Me on Ejector Seat.
Picking a deep water solo project in Mallorca came with a lot hesitation on my part. Cuz, shit is so scary to me. In fact, one of the reasons I picked Ejector Seat was because I was 100% certain I'd never do it. It didn't feel as safe as the vertical stemming project I had at Summersville Lake, WV and it took Greg more than 2 tries (see-impossible for me). It was steep, and committing with huge move followed by huge move.
It's obvious to me that deep water soloing can't be just about climbing such and such grade, like much of climbing tends to be focused on. It's more about the balance of fear and effort. Trying hard moves while embracing fear rather than trying to rationalize it. So when the stars aligned and I wasn't crippled with fear, I felt elated. I felt all the feels. People kind of lose their shit when they go to Mallorca, and I think I might be one of those people now.
I sent on our last day of the short two week trip, topping out the Diablo Cave with all of our crazy euro friends in the cave, screaming below. I think that moment might be one of the most memorable moments in climbing I've ever had.
The #shamecave at Diablo Wall. I always felt like that cat on the "hang in there" poster when I was trying to claw my way up that rope ladder, and get back into the cave. You know that poster. You know the one.
Greg on the send of an 8b on the left side of the Diablo Wall.
Greg in his happy place.
The ever-so important feet shot, while trying not to think about the sharp limestone threaders that my rope is attached to.
Till next year.
Last Light in Mallorca, Spain
The view from the Diablo wall in Mallorca
The way out.
Taking the bus into Reykjavík, Iceland at 6:00am
Reykjavík tourist things.
Reflections in a Reykjavík Coffee Shop
Attempting to shoot landscape photos while inside the moving tour bus.
In motion.
Downtown Reykjavík
Greg and his dad, Ilya in Baltimore
Ilya Kerzhner
The production Crew for the Summersville Lake DWS comp go for a group climb.
Scouting Day.
If you know Zak Roper, caption need not apply.
There’s very little in the Universe more gratifying than to watch your labors blossom into fruits, and then marvel as others turn it into something even better. That’s what happened when volunteers, athletes, sponsors, spectators, representatives of the US Army Corps of Engineers at Summersville Lake, rescue divers, medical personnel, and a whole film production team converged on the lake Tuesday, August 23, 2016 for PsicoRoc, the first deep-water-solo climbing competition ever to be held on real stone in America. Did you miss it? No problem. Stay tuned. In coming months, we'll debut a longer version that tells the whole sordid tale behind the most unusual competition in American climbing history.
Here's our highlight reel from the comp. I edited this with Kevin Riley, and am currently working on the longer short film. Yay.
Tom is a goofball. This is for another video short for ClimbTech coming out later this year.