Idyllwild, 2007

We were supposed to drive to Cabo. JT didn’t have a job and wanted to make the most of his month of unemployment. We were down in Ventura, spending a few days in the offices of Patagonia. I woke up the first morning with a hot, blistering, painful rash the shape of Asia spread over my left lat. “Looks like armpit herpes” Jonathan offered. Our friend Rob, whose house we were staying at, looked at my condition and winced. “You should go to the emergency room, I’m going to physical therapy in ten minutes, it’s right next door.” Still convinced it was an allergic reaction to my sports bra, I waited patiently on the emergency room bed, furiously texting and emailing on my BlackBerry, trying to ignore the groans from the next room where the unfortunate patient was being talked through a catheter insertion. After 45 minutes, the doctor came in, took a peek behind my gown and said flatly, “Shingles.” Thoroughly disgusted, without even knowing what shingles were, the picture of the filthy bed I slept in for two weeks in Morocco came to mind. “Kind of like adult chicken pox, but much more painful.” The doctor explained.

This, coupled with horror stories from YC about head on collisions and muggings at gunpoint, lessened my enthusiasm on our impending road trip through Baja. I scanned my mental catalog of southern California climbing areas that would appeal to JT. Hmmm, he was banned from Joshua Tree for another six months…then I thought, Idyllwild!

As we departed Ventura, YC left us with a chuckle and sadistic grin, “Beware of the 5.8s”

The authors of the guide book, Bob Gaines and Randy Vogel write, “The History of Tahquitz Rock as a climbing area dates back to the earliest beginnings of technical rock climbing in the United States. Many of the first 5.8, 5.9, 5.10, 5.11 and 5.12 climbs in the country were established here by many of the sport’s great innovators.”

I also read that it was here where Chuck Wilts, Royal Robbins and Don Wilson devised the modern “Decimal System” during the 1950s. Tahquitz local Mark Powell became one of the early Yosemite climbing bums and is credited by some with introducing the decimal system to the Valley, thus giving Yosemite credit for the innovation.

Simply put, every route at Tahquitz is a sandbag.

Day one

Sundance, 5.10b. Described in the guide as ‘a scenic cruise up the Sunshine Face’

Pitch one—a wide, 5.9 layback, un-protectable without a six friend. We didn’t have one.

Pitch two—crux pitch. Having barely reached the crux protection bolt and technically not weighting the rope, I slid six feet down the slab back onto the belay ledge. I spit scrub the edge of my shoes and then 5.12 crimp past the abysmally thin 5.10 crux only to be terrorized by the remaining 150ft. of scarcely (3 bolts) protected, and equally un-featured, ‘5.9’ slab.

Pitch three—JT backs off a 10a thin ‘crack’ version and opts for a 10b face finish. After a lot of wobbling and cursing, he gets to the belay. I follow, shrieking when the rope has even an inch of slack.

This route was done in 1967.

Day two

The Vampire, 5.11a, “A fantastic line that achieves magnificent position, perhaps Tahquitz’s finest route”

Pitch one—It takes me over an hour to lead the 10d Bat Crack. I barely barely barely do it without falling.

Pitch two—we get stormed off (it was a little windy) and bail.

This route was done in 1973

Day three—Beer deck in town.

One of the best things about climbing trips is meeting the locals and today we had the good fortune of meeting Clark Jacobs. Clark is small in stature, has salt and pepper bushy hair and mustache, and a deeply creased brown face. But behind his endearing smile and bashful eyes, live hundreds of outrageous stories. One such tale involved a stray vial of coke found at the base of a new boulder problem. Not confessing as to whether or not he indulged, he defended, “It was the 80s!” He described one partner as being so slow that, “It took her two hours to watch 60 Minutes!” Recounting epics, whippers and strippers, he had us hysterical for the next four beers. During a slight lull in the debauchery, Clark sighed wistfully and said, “Ah, then there was Lynn Hill.”

“What’s this Clark, you know Lynn Hill?!” I asked, with exaggerated interest.

“I kissed her one night, a long time ago.” He sheepishly whispered and added, “but she probably wouldn’t remember.”

“Well, let’s give her a call and see if she does!” I gleefully offered. Clark paled when I speed dialed her on my cell.

She answered.

“Lynnie! I’m at the bar in Idyllwild and there is a guy here named Clark who thinks you wouldn’t remember kissing him 25 years ago!” I blabbered in a boozie bawl.

Luckily or unluckily, she remembered.

“Oh yeah! A short Latino guy! I was a little drunk! Tell him ‘hi’!”

Clark blushed and appeared delighted.

After a couple more Sierra Nevadas, we attempted to get Clark to agree to climb The Vampire with us the next day. He had climbed it dozens of times in the past, but felt he wasn’t in proper shape to do it now.

“Come on!” I pleaded. “It will be so much fun!”

“No, I’d just slow you down.” He said with quiet nostalgia.

With more drunken enthusiasm, we got him to a ‘maybe’.

I surreptitiously paid the entire bar tab and JT and I headed off to our campsite.

“Bye Clark! See you tomorrow morning!” We both knew we wouldn’t.

At the summit of The Vampire, JT and I sat there for a good long time. I squinted down at town, imagining Clark looking up from the beer deck, watching over us and smiling.