Leavenworth and Learning to be Present - Ethan Salvo

I went to Leavenworth because I needed a break and a reset, the fall had been quite draining on me so far. After climbing the cobra crack, I felt like I was missing something in my climbing. My psych wasn’t anywhere to be found, and I caught myself thinking “It really can’t get much better than the Cobra Crack”. Given how transformative that process was for my relationship with climbing, it was easy to feel this way. Without the cobra, I felt a bit lost. I went back to the boulders to find myself but never did. I went high on the Chief with my friend Connor to check out an aid line begging to be freed. Psych and joy in climbing were found there but ended with Connors’s departure from Squamish, and the fall rains beginning. I returned to climbing in the G.W.B.C but felt absurdly weak on spray wall problems I’d normally warm up on. I felt in the middle of everything, not motivated for any of it, and bad at it all.

This lull in my climbing coincided with the closing of a door that would’ve set me on a path I’d wanted to follow for years. Despite things being out of my control, I still let it weigh down on me. I began feeling burnt out in my day-to-day life, unsatisfied with what I had, and unable to make the changes I’d been looking forward to. I let myself spiral down for weeks until I found something in my backyard to psych me up again.

Andy and I headed up the Squamish Valley to try a project I’d heard about for years. It was there under a swirly roof with just enough holds that I started to feel like myself again. The problem demanded me to try my hardest, and in moments of rest, I was rewarded by the quiet sounds of the valley, the beauty of a different landscape, and a lack of cell service. With my 22nd birthday coming up, I booked off some days with plans to camp and climb in the valley with Andy. A week before my birthday, the forecast showed 150mm of rain, I knew the last place I’d want to be was Squamish. Hoping to find experiences similar to those in the valley, I vacuumed my car, checked fluids, packed my bags, and prepared for my first visit to Leavenworth with some friends. The excitement for visiting a new area slowly shifted to the anxiety I have when travelling to the States, still ingrained in me from a traumatizing border interaction in 2023.

It was a Friday morning when I began the drive south, leaving the chief in my rearview mirror for one of a handful of times this year. I like the comfort of staying in one place, so I rarely leave. The closer I got to the border, the more anxious I felt. I questioned if I should turn around and resort to the familiarity of home, avoiding the stresses of being in a new place. I had to wait an extra long time at the border due to a shift changeover. My heart raced and pounded as the border officers slowly swapped each other out. Eventually, I got to drive up, answer a few simple questions and then I was stateside. I felt the nerves wash away, along with thoughts of life back home. The ease of passing through a challenging situation I created in my mind gave me hope for the upcoming weekend.

I re-listened to Francis Sanzaro’s “The Zen of Climbing” as I watched the colours of the forest change from green to red and yellow, the roads from straight to windy, and the rain from heavy to moderate. Hope for dry conditions on the east side of the pass disappeared when Google Maps interrupted my audiobook “In 200m, take the first exit at the roundabout onto Icicle Road”. It was then I realized I was in Leavenworth, and the rain had followed me over the pass. I still drove straight to The Penrose Step where I told my friends Forrest and Sam to meet me. I parked my car at what I guessed the parking was and followed the first trail into the woods. I was caught off guard when I was standing under the boulder after walking only 20 feet from my car. There it was, a perfect-sized granite boulder with an obvious line going up the steepest prow. The rain could no longer dull my psych, the impeccable stone and features left a spark in me that slowly relit the fire, safe from the rain below the canopy and steep rock.

Forrest turned the corner and told us “Nothing else would be dry, so we might as well climb on Penrose since it’s dry”. I had low confidence going into the session as I had taken 3 days off before this mini trip, and it usually takes me a day to get back after a rest that long. Despite low expectations, rain, and 4/10 fingertips thin on skin due to splits a week before, I felt like I was moving like myself again. Faster than expected, I figured out the moves through the sloper rail. All that was left to figure out was the end, moving off a slick left hand with a very high heel. I couldn’t allow myself to commit, feeling nothing but insecurity and fear in the positions. After spending my summer on a rope, and easing back into bouldering, committing to hard moves a decent way off the deck was something I thought twice about now. 

That night we had Bratwurst and Beer in town, a damn good way to feel welcomed in little Bavaria.

The next morning I woke up to a beautiful fall morning. Red, yellow, and oranges streaked the hillside, contrasted by the blue sky and green undertones. I took a moment to enjoy it before Sam crawled out of his truck and we began making breakfast. We moved slowly that morning due to poor sleep, lounging in the forestland parking lot while the sun crept over the south end of the canyon. Forrest’s arrival got us moving faster, and soon enough we’d join the weekend crowds in the main zone. 

The finely textured granite and featured holds make for amazing climbing. Unlike Squamish, the holds are simple and obvious. As much as I enjoy the intricacies of my home area, it was nice to remove that and climb intuitively in new terrain. Sun showers began as I finished my warm-up, not because I felt completely warm but because I had worn my fingertips to thin pink flesh. We headed back down the hill and drove over to The Penrose Step for another session.

I knew I should focus on the upper moves I had yet to do, and asked Forrest to bring his ladder out to make it easier to work the end. It could’ve been the conditions (somehow worse than the day it was raining), but it was clear my mind was holding me back. I still felt scared to commit to the upper move, and if I wasn’t scared I’d feel insecure on the holds, slipping off as soon as I’d pull on. I retreated to the lower moves to try and link the first 2 moves (crux) as I had yet to do so. One violent dry fire had me on the pads with bloody knuckles, and no desire to continue. “I think we should stop trying this today”. And so, we packed up and drove back to Forestland to check out The Teacup. 

As I hiked up the hill, my mind drifted back to my drive into Leavenworth where I toyed with the idea of giving a good flash effort on The Teacup. I did everything I should’ve known not to do after re-listening to “The Zen of Climbing” and I put my focus in all the wrong places. I spent a good amount of time brushing the holds, placing tick marks where needed, getting my skin cold again, and debating which shoes to wear. I pulled on for my flash effort, climbed up to the crux with ease, noticed how good I was feeling, and then fell, I was far from in the zone. I proceeded to get shut down by the crux move for hours, not figuring it out until dark. As I drove back into town that night I was worried that both problems I was psyched for would prove to be too much for the short time I had. I worried that if I left the weekend empty-handed, I could slowly drift back into a lull with climbing.

I rested the next day, my pink and thin skin needed it badly. The perfect conditions made it extremely hard to stay off the rocks, so I brought a book with me while dragging a pad around for Ben and Sam, hoping it would distract me. The first chapter left me with a quote that steered my mindset back on track and would stay with me for a while. 

“If happiness always depends on something expected in the future, we are chasing a will-o'-the-wisp that ever eludes our grasp, until the future, and ourselves, vanish into the abyss of death.” - Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity.

I tried to focus on being present for the rest of the day. Not worrying about my skin, not stressing about the weather, trying to stay off my phone, and not thinking about how the past 2 months made me feel. Instead, I tried to focus on the feeling of the sun on my face, listen to the birds and wind, notice the way certain shapes and lines in the rock made me feel, smell the Ponderosa Pines whenever I could (oh that sweet vanilla scent, thanks for sharing this knowledge Ben), and wander with no real direction, just following my intuition

I decided to cook dinner that night, something I rarely do when staying in the Subaru due to lack of space, and what Ben dubbed “the station wagon shuffle” - a coordinated series of movements where one can convert the bedroom to a kitchen, something like real life Tetris. I went to town and picked up some potatoes, greens, and a thick steak for dinner. Driving back into the canyon I was greeted by rain, I started to worry about what that would mean for climbing the next day, and also cooking, but instead sat back and enjoyed the colours of fall in the canyon, accented by the dull grey instead of contrasted by a blue sky. The rain continued at camp, I got creative with my cooking setup to avoid getting wet, and in no time I was sitting in my trunk chowing down on a wonderful meal. 

Before falling asleep, I brushed on 5 coats of Rhino Skin tip juice. Way more than normal, but my fingertips had been sweating so much this trip that I’d rather risk splitting fast on dry skin than deal with soft tips again. I laid down for the night, and at some point thought I could notice the pattern of rain sounds shift into a more gentle pattern, with the occasional brush on the roof of my car. 

I crawled out of my car that next morning greeted with a strong fall breeze and clouds, a great gift for my 22nd birthday. I sat on top of Mad Bush to get some cell signal, texted my family “thank you” for the birthday wishes, and then resorted to my morning routine. Coffee, eggs, toast, and this time some leftover steak. Ben said he would rest that morning and was psyched to support me for my birthday. So once I was done eating I made the call to warm up in the parking lot (to save skin for the day), and head up the hill to try The Teacup again. Just as we were ready to start approaching, the clouds cleared and the sun blasted onto the hillside.

It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized I forgot The Teacup gets morning sun, and the boulder was 30 min away from being in direct sun. I warmed up in the remaining shade, redoing sections of the problem and waiting until I felt warm to try from the start. Sun blasted the holds by the time I felt ready to try, I decided to work with what I had despite feeling skeptical about my odds. A Mellow fan taped to a stick I propped beside the crux hold helped a bit, but I still felt as if I was melting out of the crux. I had a decent try and decided to rest a while before my next try, half ready to head down the hill for a day of fun moderates. Before I felt ready to try again, a cloud appeared on the hillside and slowly moved in front of the sun. I could sense my set rolling in and had to act fast if I wanted to catch this wave. 

I executed the movements well, tried hard at the end, and topped out. It was one of those special moments where everything just lines up, a right place right time feeling.  

Our original plan for the day was to meet up with Forrest in the afternoon to session Penrose again. The thought didn’t get me psyched, but rather nervous to try and fail on the upper moves again. So I came up with the idea of trying to climb 1 problem each from V13-V0 for the day, as a way to experience what Leavenworth had to offer in all grades, instead of sitting under one difficult line. In reality, it was an excuse to not return to a problem I felt like I’d be unable to climb, once again I found myself wanting to run from something that made me uncomfortable.

Ben wanted to make a quick stop at a trailside problem we had walked by for days, which turned out to be amazing (street fighter right). It also meant I could tick off the 9 on my list for the day. Andy showed up shortly after that, and we made loose plans for the rest of the day, but for now, we figured we would stay in the parking lot and meet Forrest where we said we would. Andy mentioned he’d be psyched to try Mad Bush again, one that I had written off since it was wet every day of the trip. The strong winds overnight were just enough to dry the problem, nature was on my side again. I set some pads up and fondled the crux hold from the ground while Ben started making our afternoon coffee.

The crux hold is rad, a bad sloper with one key crystal turning it into a pinch. I couldn’t resist and just pulled on to start trying moves. Each position and hold felt comfortable and familiar, suddenly I dunked for the crux hold and latched with ease. I was shocked and tried to keep it together for the top out. A few delicate slab moves led me to the top of the boulder, meaning I had just done the hardest flash of my life. Historically I’m horrible at flashing problems, I don’t even think I had flashed V10 or V11 before, usually, I second-guess myself on the wall and don’t commit to a move, but something was different that time. I felt extremely present in my body and mind and was rewarded for being there. Upon reflection, I think the suddenness of going to try the problem didn’t even allow me to set expectations for myself, I was just happy to try a problem I heard so much about now that it was dry.

After coffee, Forrest joined up with our crew where they all decided to rally pads for Hell or High Water, and the Penrose Step. I went a different way so I could continue my V0-V13 birthday challenge, although I was solo this time. I made a quick stop at the river to climb the ultra-classic Beautification and then drove up the road to Cotton Pony. After completing those problems I flipped through my guide trying to pick out problems from V8-V0, but felt the desire for the challenge fade. I wanted to spend my birthday climbing with my friends in a beautiful place, and some silly challenge that sent me on a solo quest was not that, and no longer fun. 

By the time I met up with the squad, they were ready to move foam to The Penrose for Forrest. Despite the way I was feeling about trying the problem in the morning, I still wanted to session with my homies and figured it would be worth my time committing to learning the upper sequence so I could come back in a few weeks to finish things off. Things felt different that day, the holds were a bit stickier, and my mind was much calmer. I pulled on from the sloper and was finally able to do the last 3 moves of the problem. Not only that, but it felt chill. It seemed like everyone was thinking what I was, I should try it from the start, despite having never linked the 1st and 2nd move together. My skin was horrendously thin and sweaty at this point, and I knew I'd only be able to give it a try or two before splitting. I rested for a long time, waiting until I felt fully recovered before trying again. 

After popping my shoes on, I chalked up and let my skin cool down on the fan. I looked up at the problem, half focusing on what was in front of me and let my brain empty of all thoughts. The conversation happening around me morphed into white noise as my breath slowed. I stood up when it felt right and pulled on to see how far I could make it. I latched each hold perfectly, moved through positions with confidence and stillness, my breath still slow and steady. I arrived at the holds I’d pull onto off the ladder extremely focused and ready to try. I set up for the move that had given me so much trouble in past sessions and went for it. I latched the next hold poorly, mini pinching it instead of full crimping, I remember feeling stuck and unable to readjust due to wet skin. I stopped focusing on that and went for the lip, knowing it’s a jug. I latched, but suddenly my wet hand slipped off the hold, leaving me swinging on the hold screaming with one arm, fighting with everything I had to stay on. Somehow, I kept it together, topped out, and was taken back by what had just happened. It was an incredible moment that I think I’ll cherish for a long time, simply because I chose to be present and see what happened instead of thinking about what could happen.

I think it’s important to add this moment was tainted slightly by my foot brushing a tree branch while holding the hero swing on the lip. In all honesty, I did not notice this while climbing and only picked up on it when watching back the footage. I don’t think it helped me in any way, and believe holding that swing is much harder than keeping all your hands and feet on the wall. In the past I have reclimbed boulders when I significantly dab, but I don’t feel this problem and tiny dab warrants that. The memory of climbing that problem means so much to me, and I feel like climbing it again to satisfy any keyboard warriors would further taint my journey with The Penrose Step. It’s not the prettiest ending, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We went into town to grab a bite and meet up with some friends. After filling up on pizza, I picked up some beers and gunned it back to forestland. It was time for the 2nd half of my birthday challenge, luckily all that was left was V8-V0. We started at the boulder highest up the hill on our list and slowly descended. The forest and stone felt different at night, more dream like. Each time I’d pull onto a problem, I’d feel in my own bubble until returning to the ground where the eeriness of the night kept me on edge, and noticing things I hadn’t in the day. The problems got physically easier as the night went on, but mentally harder as things continued to get weirder. I was gone by the time we made it to the final problem of the circuit, “Ouchies V6”. It took a few tries before I intuitively executed a funky foot sequence, and topped out. We celebrated the end of the challenge before heading back to our cars. The night ended with watching the moonrise around a fire, telling stories and basking in the sweet aroma of ponderosa pine. In quiet moments I was able to reflect on how special the day was, and how that was influenced by trying to stay in the present moment, and just follow my intuition

I felt destroyed the next morning and knew there was zero chance of climbing. I reorganized my car after breakfast and went on a quick walk with Ben, wanting to move my legs before driving for 6hrs. I took in the views of Icicle Canyon one last time, and then left as quickly as possible, wanting to leave things on a good note. The drive home provided a lot of time to reflect on my weekend and big day.

First, it’s clear that my self confidence/value is still tied to my climbing performance. Although I’ve begun to work on this in the past year, I find myself slipping into old thought patterns at times, and need to continue working on this. Deliberate ignorance towards the issue does not solve it, but rather allows it to sneak up on me. I’m proud of the climbing I did on my birthday because of the mindset it required me to be in, not because of the numbers associated with it.

Returning to the quote from Alan Watts’s book, if we are always chasing happiness in the future, we will never find it. Happiness, joy, or fulfillment is found in the present moment. I think this sums up my big day the most. On the other days of this trip, I felt stressed and anxious about trying to send the hard boulders I had picked. There was no happiness in those moments, I didn’t get to fully enjoy the places I was in while thinking like that, and those thoughts sure didn’t help me try my hardest.

Thank you to my friends, and Leavenworth for such a great birthday! Here’s a video with footage of The Penrose Step, The Teacup, Mad Bush, and Beautification. © 2024 Ethan Salvo