The Summit

If you're from California you might have heard about the Donner Party - a bunch of people who got stuck in some snow and had to eat their dead to survive. Myself, having grown up in a beach bubble, didn't really hear about that until later (I did see the movie Alive, though). Just another tidbit of knowledge imparted to me with time spent outside, in the sun, climbing.

First things first. Although I've alluded to it previously, I've got more on the note: This post was brought to you in conjunction with my new computer. So far, living up to the hype.

Back to the Summit. A high elevation summer destination. I'd say, my first season visiting Donner, I was hungover about 85% of the time. Alan would pound on my door at some ungodly hour, and I'd wake up sometime between rolling out of bed and watching Alan solo Short Subject. It's really not the way to start off a day of climbing. In time I learned that - and even now, when going to climb routes there, I'm still learning - how to use my feet.

Donner became this summer's go-to destination after adding the two dogs to the family, in spirit if not in practice (see Here). The few visits made last summer typically surrounded the bouldering - which is worthy in it's own right.

Paul Barazza - White Lines

This summer, however, with the idea of prepping for a trip this fall, the focus is on routes - Donner's got some very on-your-feet and fingertips type granite. Except for maybe at the Star Wall - The in-your-face climbing there is not only home to Fathers Day, one of California's 5.14 cracks that goes all natural (below) but also one of the first places I ever hung on a rope to take some photos (thanks Patrick for not yelling at me for getting your rope stuck). I remember hanging there, burning in the middle-of-the-day-sun, just kinda worrying that the background was *a little* too bright. Oops.

Peter Chasse - Fathers Day - 2006

Another random tidbit - not so long ago something huge dropped on Pete and he lost his leg from below the knee. He's pretty regardless though, and is still climbing harder than most. Pretty inspiring.



I've got some more recent photos from there that I'm waiting to hear back on - so until then, some of the better shots have to wait. In the mean time, word on the street (Big Dave) is that they're putting the train tracks back into the tunnel - Meaning THIS for the permanent approach to the Saddle Boulders?

For those of you who can't get enough about South Africa, check here here here here and here.

The Achievement Award for this episode goes to Lyn Verinsky. Not only is she able to crush Yosemite problems (coughcoughTHRILLERcough), owns highballs, and run laps on stout problems like White Lines, but really, she's just an awesome person. I look forward to word of her current adventures in South Africa. Way to go Lyn!

Lyn Verinsky - Just Own It.

A Return from the Dead, of Sorts

Last time I left I'd confessed to a murder. My punishment: 27 days of working. Straight. Capped by an all-nighter spent at the office. No climbing outside. Almost no exercise at all.

Fortunately, I did make some time to introduce myself to shooting in

studio-type setups. Recently, my good college buddy, Marc, has become pretty psyched on shooting. After he and Valeria went to South Africa, it's been on. So we've been running around SF and building studios with borrowed lights in his house.

Of course, I'm still about the ACTION SHOTS, and I've been roaming a bit in Berkeley shooting the local graffiti. I've been trying to work with an off-camera flash system, but it's janky. I need these. In time, patient Elephant. In time.

Coming up in the relatively near future:

(1) Donner Summit

(2) Pine Creek Canyon

(3) More Studio shots & cityscapes.

Confession of a Murder

I met you in 2004. You were black, fancy, and had "IBM" tattoo. More importantly, you had a wireless card tucked away inside, allowing me to chat with my friends and surf the internet instead of paying attention to lecture.

It wasn't long before you became even so much more to me. You had this incredible ability, that only so many of your kind ever obtain. You opened my world to playing with tons of my crappy photos, and making them less crappy. Even to this day, I don't fully understand your capabilities there.

You died once before. But I brought you back to life. You were too important for me to let go (after all, you did have the essay I needed to move back to California - and all of those less crappy photos). You weren't brought back into the easiest of lives. In fact, you became a sort of an addiction. I dragged your around the country, hiding you away in various bags. I filled you up with information to the point you couldn't think straight anymore. I cleared your memory, and did it all over again. I even let Becky drop you out of the car and crack your spine. Still, you stitched panoramas, took me around the internet, and helped me blast horrible music - all allowing me to daydream of the world where I wasn't sitting at a desk all day, just staring at your screen.

Last week, you just stopped. Right in the middle of our favorite pastime, stitching too many photos together.

You must have heard me. I was so crass. So unfeeling. Speaking of your replacement right in front of you. She'd won't be as heavy as you. She'll look better than you. She'll perform better than you. She won't even be the same species as you. (she only eats Apples?) And she won't have a broken back. At least not yet.

I must have killed you.