Crash Discovers The TRAM (and realizes there is actually a tram)

The first thing that struck me quite noticeably was that there was a tram. Okay, maybe I should've figured that part out on the 2-hour drive from LA to wherever, AFTER hearing about it a number of times as "The Tram", AFTER someone told me it was 22 bucks to get to the area, or maybe AFTER...we passed a giant sign that read THE TRAM with letters two feet tall.

Okay, so there was this tram. We hitched our car next to some hippies and walked up the parking lot to the building, when suddenly it hit me: we had to tram our way to the boulders. I can be pretty slow sometimes. Dan told me this: we were 4,000 feet below the problems we so dearly wanted to try, and, if I wanted to, I could walk.

Eighteen dollars and some sense later, myself and four others (Eden, Ty, Dan, and their coach, Taylor [sp?]) were sitting in the loading room, trying to pretend Daniel Woods wasn't twenty feet away, letting the guys we'd parked next to what he was planning to crush that day. I'd known he was in LA, but what were the chances of catching the same 3pm tram ride, on the same day, as us? Hoping desperately we would not witness him sending some future project of ours, I shouldered my backpack and got in the circular tram car with the others.

This was the cool part, the approach. Instead of grueling up sketchy inclines and edging between boulders, it was a smooth, quick ten minute ride up 4,000 feet to the top of the mountains (which rose dramatically around us). Our car moved quickly, turning slowly to show everyone the grande view of the city on one side and the large mass of rock and spires that we passed on the other. Not for the weak of mind. The car held upwards of half-a-dozen crashpads amongst the twenty of us, and there was still room to spare. Perfect for climbers on their way to their projects.

First we hit a warm-up boulder, then we moved over to a V4, then a V10. It wasn't much of a V10. The scene was camera-friendly, but we couldn't tell what went where since the holds were scattered and several jugs made us doubt if we were at the right spot. We all agreed whatever we were trying sucked and left somewhat disappointed.

Gluttony isn't just one of the seven sins, it's also a crimpy V8 with cheese-grater holds. Already we'd felt our strength sapped and our tips bruised but we gave it several valiant goes before leaving it for dead, something to return to when evolution molds rubber to our fingers in the future of science. Maybe next week.

Next we trudged over to the Cube, named because it's...a cubey-thing. From several hundred feet we could easily recognize the hunched shoulders of Mr Woods attempting to mantle straight over the lower corner of the Cube; Luara Griffiths sitting off to the side, talking with a woman; Paul Robinson watching DW, his black hair emphasizing his charismatic personality. As we neared, Taylor questioned them on the disappointing V10, in return getting directions to a V10 one-move-wonder from a man watching the mantling frivolity from his spot on a log. We had a short conversation with Laura ("I went to Spain last year, kicking and screaming against my will. Yeah, I'll be going to Spain again. I’m taking a year off…” “From climbing?” “From school.” “Aah.”) before we heading off for this intriguing V10.

Shit. I lost the whole rest of the blog when I hit backspace :( Okay, whatever, breathe Crash, breathe…

We actually spent more time on this one move than on any other problem there. Serious. It refused Ty and stayed infuriatingly just out of my own reach, but Eden caught the throw once and fell trying to finish off the top. Desiring to leave with at least some small amount of dignity, we all three managed to top the rest (V7 according to Dan, but more of a V6).

We moved back to the Cube, I quickly sent the V5 without a pad and we continued up to Blue Flame. As darkness fell we scurried over to Angus, another one-move wonder sort of deal rated V9 if you ignored the cheatstone in the back of the low overhang. With the light of one headlamp and the several bleeding fingers, Ty and I gave it several short-lived attempts, but only he was close to sticking the low throw (are all the V9s here low throws?) and was carried off by the cruel devices of momentum.

By the light of the half moon and the headlight ahead of us, we stubbed our toes and tripped over rocks on our way back to the tram. We got in at 9:15 and caught the 9:30 ride back, one of the last trams of the day. Our ears popped on the way down as we sat on the crashpads and watched the lights of the city blink in the black night, our fingertips throbbing painfully and our shoulders slouched with tiredness. Wincing, I pulled off the tape that bound two of my left digits, sighing regretfully as skin left my fingers in the pull of the stick adhesive stuff.

We got to the car and threw two pads in the truck and one on the roof, binding it through the window of the door so we had to jump in Dukes-Of-Hazard style. On the two hour drive back, all I could think about were the problems we’d left behind. Wait a minute…I remembered my iPod and plugged in, leaning my head awkwardly against the car window. Southern Man blast into my ears...and at once I felt like turning around and going back to finish everything. Oh, so NOW the adrenaline kicks in, I thought, bemused. I felt betrayed.

Next time…