One more try on the crux of Habanero, 5.12b, in Mexican limestone paradise.
So this
makes sense: I flew a thousand miles across the Mexican border to camp in a
tent in the rain, and it was the most civilized climbing trip of my life. I
must be either homeless, have really bad luck…or I’m a trad climber.
Day 3, I groggily
awoke in the soggy tent, slipped on sandals as Andrew kept slumbering, and
greeted the morning fog as I strolled leisurely to the kitchen at La Posada
campground where a stocked fridge and pantry lay in wait. The night’s rain
would take some time to dry from the cliffs, so I enjoyed the homey rituals of
making coffee and toast while exchanging pleasantries with other guests. I had
a sip and a nibble while reading my book (when’s the last time I read a book?)
and when Andrew arrived we cooked up a killer breakfast of tacos with fresh
mango and cilantro garnish, then after a stretch grabbed our rope and draws and
strolled up to the crag for a lovely afternoon of sport climbing.
As we
ambled back to the campground that evening, our arms a bit pumped but still
limber and light of foot, it occurred to me that this climbing trip was really
unlike any other I’d been on, and not just because I was in Mexico…it was
because we were sport climbing! I’m so used to returning to camp sore and
weary, it was refreshing to just walk back on a pleasant evening.
Ever since
I fell in love with vertical adventure I’ve bent my life around getting out in
wild places where we could wake up before dawn, bushwack to some monstrous
cliff, spend all day thrutching up it in a perpetual state of moderate terror,
then descend in the dark and bumble back through the night to a primitive camp
where we’d refuel the tank and crash out for another burn the next day. It was
all about the type-2 fun. It was TRAD! It was RAD! And scary, exhausting, and
has caused more soul-searching than I may have been looking for some days. Of
course, that was usually the point.
It wasn’t
until this trip to Potrero Chico that I realized how civilized sport climbing
can be. We slept in, enjoyed great meals of fresh local produce, and were
always home for supper. We enjoyed high-quality steep limestone every day, and
rarely had to worry about a fall.
air time
Of course,
we couldn’t resist taking a run up the Time Wave Zero, a unique route of 23
bolted pitches to the top of a 2,200 foot tall fin of limestone. (Much thanks
to the people who dragged all those bolts up there.) The route consists of
mostly moderate climbing, so linking 60 meter pitches one after another as we
climbed higher into the sky left us grinning from ear to ear. We did need to
wake up kinda early for that one—dawn in fact, but after enjoying the views
from the summit we simul-rapped 23 rappels, chugged the water we’d cached at
the base, and strolled back into camp for dinner.
I’ll
always be a trad climber at heart—my blessing or curse—but during a hard
semester of grad school, I think I’m learning to appreciate the simple pleasure
of a sport climbing trip.
Farmers market
These gorditas are so good. Fried thick corn tortillas stuffed with spicy shredded pork, what more can you ask for?
Tool, duct tape, and N64 game cartriges. Should I have been surprised?
Community bingo with bottle caps as tokens.
Andrew approaches the Bronco Cave
David Fay rides the Celestial Omnibus 5.12a
And we didn't even need to bring Tecate...turns out they have plenty down there! Until next time, Viva Mexico!