Suffocating at Elevation

Going from 500 feet to 5000 feet is brutal on one's respiratory system. I felt like I could run a marathon from all of the harsh bushwhacking I did in Kentucky, but now that I find myself located at ten time the sea level as the Red River Gorge, I can't breathe. Hiking up to the Flatirons my first day here wasn't too bad, but climbing a long 5.4 pitch had me winded at about 100 feet off the deck.

Did I mention that I'm in Boulder, Colorado now? Probably not. But anyways, here I am in another public library, wondering when I'll start getting paychecks from the job that I don't have yet. Yeah, I need one.

About the Flatirons: When I arrived in Boulder late Sunday evening I met up with Eric Chastang. He insisted that we go free-solo an 800 ft route named Freeway (5.4). No ropes, no gear, just me and the void. I was a little apprehensive to say "yes." It sounded like a great way to pitch off a cliff to my death, but hey, at least if I died it'd be an interesting way to go. I'd be lying if the thought didn't keep me up at night for an hour or two.  The next day we went out and climbed it. At about 100 feet up I said to myself: "if I fall, I'll probably die. So, since it's safer to climb up, than down-climb, onward!" Did I mention I had to jump off a "diving board" from one cliff to another to get to the top? It was pretty bad-ass.

Freeway is located on the second fin from the right: the Second Flatiron, the least steep cliff

This is a commonly free-soloed route. Eric, in trying to convince me to do it, told me that he went from his car, up the cliff, and back to his car in 39 minutes. Sounds like he ran up the thing, huh? I need a few more days of acclimation to even think of doing trying to beat that time. I could barely catch my breath on the approach!

Anyways . . . mom, if you're reading this, you'll probably have a few more grey hairs to dye. Sorry.