Tapalpa: Bouldering
One day, when the wind wasn’t cooperating but it had not yet started to rain, we decided to go on a hike. Well, call it an adventure, as it wasn’t very far to walk but managed to be more risky than paragliding in it’s own way. After piling in the car we drove out of town, where the roads ironically become much smoother as cobblestone gave way to paved highways. After a long drive to the middle of the plateau, we were surrounded by rolling grasslands. It reminded me of southern Oregon, or parts of Wyoming. Big sky country.
Finally we came to a long low building, that looked like it belonged in a country western. This feeling was intensified when we walked through an archway and saw a row of already saddled horses hitched to fenceposts. The only thing out of place was a beleaguered giant trampoline, nearly collapsing in on itself. A few dollars would get you a turn on either, but we continued on to the main attraction: the rocks.
Thrusting up out of the prairie land was a collection of large, reddish rocks. They sat in several clusters, reaching 30, 40, 50 feet above the ground. I immediately ran to one and started feeling it for bouldering potential, and found it to be very rough, with smaller rocks embedded inside. Some sort of sedimentary composite formation. In short, it was perfect. I climbed the main formation first, shimmying up a chimney, and then making a 3-foot jump 20 ft in the air between two vertical pinnacles of rock, both shearing off the main formation. It was a fun climb, but people were moving on so I retraced my steps and went to join them.
The second collection had a short vertical section that I simply wall-ran up and then three very tall boulders that looked like a podium. There was a likely looking crack between the first and second place “platforms”, but I circled the whole thing to make sure there wasn’t a safer way. I approached slowly, confident that I could get up, hesitant about the down part. I started climbing upwards, feet splayed, trying to figure out which way my knees should go to make the best use of footholds. I was near the top, but the last part was the crux, and I was getting pretty high. I inched further into the cleft, until even a deep breath would fill the space. I felt comforted by the rough, scraping walls and confined space. At this point no matter how badly I slipped I wouldn’t go anywhere, just skin my knees at worst. I paused a moment and rested there, then shimmied up onto the platform.
I was flush with victory as I waved to the main group who were taking in the view atop some rocks on the edge of the formation. By the time I carefully made my way down most of them were out of sight, so I picked my way down the prairie, taking pictures along the way. I saw that they were headed for the largest formation yet, and jogged to join them.
This one had a zip line running back to the first set of rocks, despite being lower down on the hill, and as I got closer I saw that there was a whole ropes course built around it. As I approach I can see metal rungs for the start of the course about 10 feet off the ground. Presumably they have a ladder, and also didn’t take climbers into account. The group tells me no one in either tour could reach the lowest rung, which made me more determined as they knew it would. I kicked a loose rock away so I wouldn’t turn my ankle if I landed on it.
No convenient crevasses here, I scoped and tested each small handhold, scrabbling for something solid. My fingers started to crimp holding me up on a centimeter wide shelf in the rock that was my best option. I fell, pushing back from the wall to land on the dusty ground and then took a step back to consider. There. That protrusion was a halfway decent foothold, even for my decidedly not climbing shoes. It was high enough that if I stood on it and reached up I thought I would touch metal, but the trick was getting there. I tried again. This time I saw what I would have to do. I hesitated. It would be a dynamic move and if I lost my balance a significant drop. I put one last burst of energy into my sore fingers and pulled myself up, leaning my chest against the slight slope. I reached and came up one inch short! Then I saw a cable to the right of the rung and a bit lower and nabbed it. I was up.
I sat on the lowest rung and rested for a bit. Now that I was here I was not at all sure I wanted to climb upwards. This was the opposite of bouldering (high chance of falling, low risk of injury). The rungs seemed solid, and I could hold and stand on several at once, with little chance of slipping. But the exposure had become quite significant. People from atop a rock around the corner were calling for me to climb up, and I decided as long as I took it slow I would be fine. I went up hand over hand, then sideways through a slanted shelf in the rock, holding on the the thick zipline wire that was wrapped around the entire formation, rather than the thin wire the harnesses were supposed to be clipped into. I reached the rope bridge and took a few steps out to have a photo taken after checking that all 5 wires looked secure (in reality any one could probably have held me).
On the way down I did everything right. Three points of contact at all times, got someone to spot me for the last 4 foot drop to make sure I didn’t hit my head. I guess I could have tried to climb down, but I thought I was better off with a clean drop. Apparently not. I would have been fine making this drop onto concrete, but in this case my right heel came down hard on a half-buried rock and the unevenness of the slope caused it to take too much of my weight before I could flex my legs. I popped up and walked away from the wall but I knew right away I had screwed up, having bruised a heel bone before.
I felt it throb as the adrenaline faded, and at one point even felt a bit dizzy. So I sat down with my back to a rock and took some deep breathes. Last time this happened I was in a lot of pain by this point, and that wasn’t even a break (I think). So I got up and started back to the van, smoothly at first, and then starting to hobble as the swelling hit. I was embarrassed, but not as much as I would be angry at myself if I missed a flying day. So I sucked up my pride and asked everybody if they knew where to buy ice.
In the end a friend picked up some ice for me and I ensconced myself in blankets to keep my core body temperature up while burying my heel in a freezing towel. Nothing to do now but hope it wasn’t a hairline fracture. I just laughed at my ability to hurt myself on a frikin’ rock after flying though the air thousands of feet in the sky all week.
