Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Dangerous Eructations! Science finally addresses an alpine menace that many fall victim to, but few are talking about.

We've all been there, behind your buddy on the skin track and he rips one right in your face. Confined by the track, you can't dodge left or right, and the rancid odors of his metamorphosed egg-and-sausage breakfast sandwich filter straight through long underwear and gore-tex straight to your nostrils. Trail bombed.

Hikers, skiers and climbers alike have been "passing wind" on windy passes since time immemorial, and invariably, when they're caught, blame their alpine eructations on beans, TVP, or the closest guy. I always suspected there there was a more systematic problem going on, and I'm so glad I stumbled upon this letter in a leading medical journal (don't ask me how--long story), in which research physicians get to the heart of the matter of why we fart more in the mountains. 

If you grew up on climbing literature like me, or ever watched Vertical Limit or any other trashy B-rated "adventure films", you're familiar with the terms HAPE and HACE, serious life-threatening conditions which result from prolonged exposure to low atmospheric pressure. But have you heard of HAFE? It's time we quit fooling ourselves and start having an honest conversation about high altitude flatus expulsion.

By the way, have you ever used the word eructation? Neat, huh.


...from THE WESTERN JOURNAL OF MEDICINE

High Altitude Flatus Expulsion (HAFE)

TO THE EDITOR: We would like to report our observations upon a new gastrointestinal syndrome, which we shall refer to by the acronym HAFE (high altitude flatus expulsion). This phenomenon was most recently witnessed by us during an expedition in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado, with similar experiences during excursions past. The syndrome is strictly associated with ascent, and is characterized by an increase in both the volume and the frequency of the passage of flatus, which spontaneously occurs while climbing to altitudes of 11,000 feet or greater. The eructations (known to veteran back-packers as "Rocky Mountain barking spiders") do not appear to vary with exercise, but may well be closely linked to diet.' The fact that the syndrome invariably abated on descent leads us to postulate a mechanism whereby the victim is afflicted by the expansion of colonic gas at the decreased atmospheric pressure of high altitude. This is somewhat analogous to the rapid intravascular expansion of nitrogen which afflicts deep-sea divers and triggers decompression illness. While not as catastrophic as barotrauma nor as debilitating as HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema), HAFE nonetheless represents a significant inconvenience to those who prefer to hike in company. Some experience from recent Everest expeditions suggests that the use of digestive enzymes and simethicone may minimize the hazard.

At present, we can advise victims that the offense is more sociologic than physiologic. HAFE should be added to the growing list of medical disorders that are associated with exposure
to high altitude. We are planning a prospective study for the summer of 1981.

PAUL AUERBACH, MD
Assistant Professor of Medicine
Attending Physician, Emergency Services
Temple University Hospital
Philadelphia

YORK E. MILLER, MD
Research Fellow
Pulmonary Division
Department of Medicine
University of Colorado Health Sciences Center
Denver

REFERENCE
1. Levitt MD, Lasser RB, Schwartz JS, et al: Studies of a
flatulent patient. N Engl J Med 295:260-262, Jul 29, 1976

THE WESTERN JOURNAL OF MEDICINE 173

So before you panic, remember that farting in the mountains is not "barotrauma" not as deadly as HAPE, a condition where you end up drowning from the water in your lungs. At worst, you will just annoy your friends for about 5 seconds and at best get a great laugh as they moan and try to jump out of the way. Besides, "the offense is more sociologic than psychologic". Thanks for clarifying guys. Happy trails, and on ascents in the mountains, leave a little extra space between you and the guy in front.

Monday, April 28, 2014

Homemade granola


Tasty granola smothered in a healthy dollop of rich yogurt is one of my favorite snacks or quick breakfasts, and nothing makes the house smell as good as warm granola fresh out of the oven. Here’s a simple recipe that is pretty easy to adjust according to whatever flavors you want to include or ingredients you have on hand. When I rolled into Yosemite Valley to stay a month, I had 3 gallons of granola that I made from excess ingredients snatched from the throw-away pile at work. If you can source cheap ingredients this is a truly cheap, mad-tasty food.

Ingredients:
4 cups rolled oats
1-2 cups chopped nuts (almonds, cashews, walnuts…)
1 cup seeds (pumpkin or sunflower)
½ cup oil (Coconut oil is tasty, safflower is cheap and simple)
½ cup sweetener (maple syrup or honey)
1 tsp each spices (cinnamon, nutmeg, cayenne…)
1 tsp vanilla optional
1-2 cups dried fruit, whatever you fancy

Mix it all up in a big bowl. If using coconut oil, melt it first.
Bake for 45 minutes at 375°, stirring every 15 minutes. Err on the side of pulling it out early, you don’t want to burn it (unless you like the crispy taste) and you can always heat it a little more.

Eat some immediately because you can’t help it, then mix in dried fruit if you wish once it’s cooled down.

This basic blueprint for granola can be tailored to many themes. I’ve recently enjoyed making it with cashews, walnuts, pumpkin seeds, coconut oil, maple syrup, cinnamon and ground cardamom. Super good. Walnuts and cinnamon with dried apples is a classic combo. I usually add ground flax seed for a healthy oil addition.


Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Simple, cheap, mad-tasty foods even a guy can make!

So it’s about time I expand the blog to themes beyond climbing exploits. Eating tasty, healthy food and reducing the money I spend on it have always been major pastimes of mine; since I’ve recently become an unemployed student again, these activities have risen in my priority list. The dilemma: how do I forge a diet of wholesome, nutritious food so I can perform as an athlete and generally live healthy, without breaking the bank? There are people who have lots of money and not much time; they have Whole Foods to shop at. Then there are people who have a whole lot of time but not much money, and we have the bulk section of Whole Foods to shop at (or hopefully a cheaper store). If we have raw ingredients and a kitchen to play in, we can make pretty tasty, real food at a bargain price.

I’m going to share some basic recipes that are so simple even a climbing-obsessed male in his mid 20’s (read: gorilla) can make them. Many of these can be made with basic tools, although a food processor comes in quite handy. I’d say if I only owned three kitchen implements they would be a quality cast-iron pan, a food processor, and a respectable knife; you can improvise anything else about anywhere you go.

A brief note on REAL food and realities of budgets: I am an omnivorous mammal, I forage the earth for plant and animal foods. I know what eggs and salt and kale and meat are, I could find them in a field if I had to. I don’t know what casein solids or whey protein isolate or sodium carboxy-methyl cellulose really are, and while they can make my taste buds happy in the right ratios they probably won’t help me pedal a bike or hold onto a crimp or keep walking on hour umpteen, because they aren’t real food. Much can be said about this, of course, so I’ll avoid the rant and let others do it who can do it better.

Of course, we all have a budget to consider. I titled this blog “carrots and peanut butter” in tribute to our classic college road trip meal: cheap, filling calories that could be purchased just about anywhere. I’ve since learned things about mass-produced (Jiff, etc) peanut butter that make me cringe, and carrots from big factory farms are little more than cellulose and water with a hint of beta-kerotine, so my snacks have changed. In college I ate cheap by buying cheap foods, many of which were already made. What I’ve learned since is that by making my own, I can purchase more wholesome (less fake) ingredients and make tasty food while still maintaining a low cost bottom-line. Much of the dollar value of food comes from the value added (i.e. processing) to basic ingredients. As a dirtbag, you have more time than money. If you buy the ingredients in bulk and do the processing yourself, you still have gas money when it’s time to hit the road. Simple.

Yogurt:
I’ll start with yogurt. I love yogurt. My girlfriend has accused me of being “mostly made of yogurt” from how much I eat, which probably wouldn’t be a bad thing to be made of because yogurt is alive. Making your own yogurt can be done quickly and is an easy way to save money. Once you have the yogurt all you need to buy is milk. I make a gallon of super tasty yogurt every couple weeks for $5.50; the process takes about 40 minutes and most of that time I can be doing something else while waiting for the milk to warm or cool. A gallon of yogurt of equivalent quality, at $4-6 a quart, would cost between $16 and $24. Simple math.

Oh, this necessitates a quick note on fat and the whole “low-fat” craze; I’ll keep it brief because this opens up its own deep can of worms… Fat is the densest form of food. Fat is 9 calories per gram, compared to 4 cal/g for carbs and protein. This makes fat an awesome energy source! If you had to do produce a sustained physical output for a long day with only a few ounces of food (like a climb in the Black Canyon…) you will feel more long-haul energy throughout the day if your food has a high percentage of fat in it. I’ve noticed that if I eat some fat in the morning I can stave off mid-day hunger by a few hours.

OK, so the yogurt recipe:

*Yogurt starter: you need a yogurt that’s proper alive, full of living bacteria. Getting a few TBSP of someone else’s homemade yogurt is best; if you can’t go for a full-fat, high-quality yogurt. I’ve had success with FAGE, Greek Gods, or whatever local yogurt is available. Don’t try to use low-fat Yoplait with preservatives that’s been sitting in a warehouse for months.

Ingredients
4-6 TBSP live yogurt*
½ gal whole milk, best quality you can find
large pot, ½ gal mason jar
thermometer that goes between 115° and 180° (the small ones, for about $5)
twist-tie or bendable wire to hold the thermometer on the pot
Optional for fast cooling: larger-diameter pot and ice. In the freezer, stirring every few minutes, also works.

Directions
Put 4-6 TBSP live yogurt in the jar
Heat milk to 180° (stir when the temperature is getting close to get an accurate reading)
Cool milk to 115° (I place the pot of hot milk in a larger pot holding icewater and stir, takes 5-7 min)
--optional: pre-warm oven by turning it on for a couple minutes--
Pour warm milk in the jar and cap it
Keep the jar warm, in oven or otherwise (around 100° ideally) for six-nine hours

That’s it! The heating activates critical proteins that let bacteria multiply through the milk, when you open the jar it will be full of creamy yogurt…like magic! For keeping the jar warm, I usually turn the oven on for a couple minutes so it heats up, then put the jar inside wrapped in a towel. In El Chaltén, the lovely ladies at Verdelimón let their yogurt incubate in a foam tube placed in a sunny window. I don’t think the mechanism, or the ideal heat of 100°, really matters. Be creative. If you haven’t made yogurt before be patient and expect some inconsistencies at first, it’s an uncertain art. Once you have a quality yogurt, remember to save a little to make the next batch. I’ve messed that one up before…


All you need. A twist-tie keeps the thermometer on the pot. The funnel is nice but not necessary.

Cooling the milk in icewater in the larger pot. Watch the thermometer while you stir and you'll notice how much faster it cools when the fluid is moving. The power of convection!

I wrap the mason jars in a towel in a pre-warmed oven. 6 hours later, they emerge as yogurt.

Sauerkraut
One of my favorite condiments, super versatile…under a fried egg, as a garnish on the side, not to mention the classic applications alongside sausage or atop a burger. Sauerkraut taps my old German heritage; my grandmother remembers her grandmother always keeping a huge ceramic crock stocked with cabbage for the next batch.

Sauerkraut is probably the simplest fermented food to make. It’s basically brined cabbage, and the brining breaks down the fibrous structure of the cabbage (that makes you fart) and lets lactobacillus bacteria thrive, turning the cabbage mash into a live, fermented food full of probiotics. Since the only necessary ingredients are cabbage and salt, this is super cheap, less than $2 for a half gallon!

Ingredients
1 medium-size cabbage
1 TBSP salt
1 TBSP caraway seeds (optional, for flavor and flair)
Big mixing bowl
½ gal masor jar (or a bucket and a plate and a weight)

Directions
Chop the cabbage. A food processor with the shredding blade does this super fast.
Mix shredded cabbage, salt, and caraway seeds in the bowl. Use your hands and squeeze hard, it’s fun.

Two options for fermentation: the process is anaerobic, so the cabbage needs to be submerged (if left exposed to air, the aerobic process, rot, will occur). The salt breaks down cell walls and releases a surprising amount of water, so much that you don’t have to add any water. Cool huh.

a)      Traditional method: For style points use your family’s heirloom ceramic crock, or a 5-gal bucket from Home Depot if you can’t find it (shoot, where is that thing?). Insert shredded cabbage, place a plate over it that just fits, and weight the plate down. The pressure will keep the goods submerged.
b)      Simple method: stuff all the cabbage in a ½ gal mason jar and cap it. The water will collect at the bottom, so flip it over every other day. This has worked just fine for me. Fermentation releases CO2, so you need to unscrew the lid to release pressure every day or so.

Fermentation takes about a week (give or take for temperature differences).

Since brined sauerkraut (not made with vinegar) is alive, it has its own “immune defense” so-to-speak, meaning it is very shelf-stable. I leave mine un-refrigerated in a room-temp kitchen for weeks, and it holds up great camping.

Variation: I used a 1:1 blend of green cabbage and red cabbage; the result was tasty and a gorgeous magenta color.
purple sauerkraut in action


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

An Ego Spanking in the Gunks

(Please excuse any excessive geological ramblings, sometimes can't help myself. I learned geology while learning to climb, so the two are inseparable in my mind. But then again, they're inseparable anyway...)


We all need to be taken down a notch, as my mother would say, every once in a while. While I don’t necessarily enjoy it at the time, I definitely need a good ego-spanking now and then, and I received just what I needed this weekend. Spring finally has come to New England and my girlfriend Lilly and I journeyed with our friends Heather and Craig to the Gunks. Presiding above a rolling pastoral landscape just outside the college town of New Paltz NY, a striking cliff-line of gently dipping quartz conglomerate, formally Shawangunk ridge, is one of the premier traditional rock climbing destinations in the northeast. The Gunks is TRADITIONAL in the proper sense; routes rely almost exclusively on natural protection, ball-nuts and tri-cams are still on gear lists, and creativity with placements and good-old boldness are prerequisites for leading anything above (and sometimes including) 5.6. Most notable for a climber from Colorado is the SANDBAG factor: I haven’t gone to a crag with a hit list of 5.6’s and 5.7’s, with a .10b as my “stretch” goal, since my rack consisted of manky DMM cams, bootied nuts, and tied nylon slings and I still paid upperclassmen for beer.

The sandbag factor is fun and good for the soul, and provides some fantastic climbs that are both easy and thrilling, a combination not often found. (*Cough* excellent place to take your aspiring-climber significant other to get them psyched). This is made possible by the unique geology of the cliff: it’s a 70 meter high package of what a geologist would call “thin to medium-bedded” quart conglomerate. It’s basically very well cemented sandstone with pebbles mixed in with the ancient sand (thus a conglomerate), and between “beds” (flat layers) of pebbly sandstone are thin layers of shale, the rock that forms from mud. The result: shale erodes faster than sandstone, so the cliff appears as horizontal bands of bullet-hard conglomerate separated by horizontal cracks that vary from a half-inch to 3 inches, the perfect size for a cam. Also, the whole layer-cake of conglomerate and shale dips away from the cliff, so edges on the cliff tend to not only be flat, but positive. From a climber’s perspective, geology has created bitchin’ good climbing, basically a wall of jugs protected by horizontal placements.

I would describe the Gunks as the antithesis of Indian Creek: rather than plug-and-chug routes that demand pure stamina and physical prowess, successful sending at the Gunks relies more on the dark arts of subtle face climbing, gear trickery, and old-school boldness. It feels quite similar to Eldo, in fact. You can’t bump your cams along a vertical crack, and often you can’t even see placements until you’re staring into them with the wind whistling beneath your shorts. A lot of low-grade routes at the Gunks are just a ton of fun; I don’t know where else I’ve been run-out on overhanging terrain 15 feet above a horizontally-placed green C3 and felt totally at ease while throwing a heel-hook on yet another massive jug. Can’t do that in the South Platte.

Craig Muderlak finds 5.8 plenty exciting on "Annie Oh"


I could nerd out on the influences of geology on climbing all day, so on to the spanking…

The Gunks is famous for insanely fun and exposed moderate climbs (notably High Exposure, which Craig described as “the funnest 5.6 on the planet”… and I have to agree), but things get pretty serious pretty fast as the grade increases. Lilly and I enjoyed “Snooky’s return,” which starts with exciting moves off the ground protected by RPs (got my fully attention!) and finishes with a rope-stretching run-out up an overhanging jug-fest for a 50+ meter pitch: rated 5.8. The sun at this point was roasting but we were psyched and I hopped on the adjacent climb “Friends and Lovers,” rated 5.9 PG. Tenuous moves off the deck lead to thankfully bomber gear before a quite difficult an devious crux. I had just pulled the move and plugged a 00 C3 into a tiny horizontal pocket while balanced on a warm, greasy smear; I was contemplating the next move and trying to keep my balance, feeling pretty gripped, when ropes came down from above and surprised me quite a bit. Someone was rappelling down, very close.

“Uh, head’s up, I’m down here,” I said, re-chalking my sweaty fingers and giving the C3 a solid wiggle, feeling a little indignant that someone securely on rappel would drop ropes so close to a climber bravely forging ahead in the valiant act of LEADING…

“What are you climbing?” asked a kind older voice. “Oh, that’s a good one, I put that route up years ago.”
My rising balloon of indignation popped and fell, wilted, to the ground. This guy put up the F.A. of this thing in the 70’s! I looked at the C3 again, securely lodged in a ridiculously small pocket. He certainly didn’t have C3s in 1978, and he was probably fiddling tricams and hexes into the larger horizontals, wearing EBs on his feet…suddenly I felt ridiculous in my padded harness bristling with light modern cams and dyneema runners, standing in pinpoint-perfection LaSportiva rock shoes.

Feeling the need to say something else as Ron Sacks hung 10 feet from me with his grey beard and a twinkle in his eye, I said, “uh, pretty exciting route.”

“Yeah, that was a good one. Not much gear on it.” Yeah no shit.

Well now that the route’s venerable author was mere meters away watching some shirtless whippersnapper climb his route 36 years later in sleek asymmetric shoes, I surely wasn’t going to fall, or flail. I grabbed my “man-satchel,” so to speak, and kept climbing. The horizontal cracks on this part of the wall are pretty far apart, so you have to climb a couple body-lengths between pieces. Soon I was at the route’s crux, contemplating a difficult smeary high-step move off small crimps with a green Camalot placed securely in a horizontal crack beneath by feet. I looked down at the cam, the slab below that I really didn’t want to hit, Lilly belaying with a smile on her face and Ron watching steadily. What did he place in there in ’78? A hex? Was it bomber? Can’t mess this one up.

I searched for various options to make the move feel more secure and of course there were no other options, so eventually I stopped farting around and pulled the move, discovered there was no gear to be had, and kept going up into a definite no-fall zone. ‘Jeez, this thing is BOLD’ was my main thought as I finally got more gear in—a green C3 under a wet down-ward facing flake, ugh—and continued up easy but exciting terrain to the anchor. I looked down and Ron was smiling.

Chatting with Ron later, we learned he was there taking his teenage daughter climbing for the first time; they'd just enjoyed a classic 5.5 that scales the whole cliff with plenty of exciting exposure. He quit climbing for 20 years after his amped-up youthful days and was recently getting back into the sport. Meeting him in such ridiculous circumstances—an amped-up youth myself “hopping on” his route for a quick jaunt with modern gear, a route that was surely a serious risk for him to lead in ’78—gave me pause and made me think about the courage of the climbing pioneers who took big risks to climb these walls and discover what’s possible. All winter I’ve been training in the gym, cranking out sets of 5.12 sport climbs and taking huge whingers with abandon in the plastic, padded room. It’s good to remember that all that strength is no substitute for good old-fashioned courage, and leading a “5.9” at the Gunks is plenty exciting.


Lilly pulls out of overhanging jug-world on the funnest 5.6 on the planet

http://www.mountainproject.com/v/105801068- photo by Michael Amato
The amazing airy traverse on probably the most exciting 5.8 with the best name that I've ever climbed, the Cascading Crystal Kaleidoscope. Our chance at this shot was soiled by another party's stuck ropes so I ripped one off mountainproject because this shot just has to go along with any discussion of climbing at the Gunks. Lilly and I both found the traverse quite exciting.

One of the steeper walls, the site of Directississima, 5.10b, which Craig sent in good style

On this hot April day, jeans were a bad decision...and were promptly vetoed

Save me, I'm on a cliff!

Enjoying a frosty beverage on the comfy ledge up High Exposure