17-September-2000
Alexander Chiang <achiang@nyx.net>

"Trial by Wildfire"

I had never seen a wildfire before. Two large rings burned silently
and steadily in the hills ahead. They threw off a beautiful eerie
glow visible from twenty miles into the breezy Oklahoma night. As we
drove further downwind, faint hints of smoke flavored air began to
infiltrate the car's interior; subtle at first, it gained confidence
and soon asserted its dominance within the car. Jeff turned and
remarked, "I hope that's not where we're going to be climbing."

I started climbing at a gym in California about a year and a half ago. 
A friend at work who had been climbing for a while asked me one day if 
I was interested in learning a new sport. I jumped at the chance, of 
course, and was instantly hooked. For the next few months I trekked
out to the gym several times a week to scratch my newfound itch.

Alas, the summer ended too quickly, and at the end of August 1999 in 
the year of our Lord, I found myself returning to Champaign, IL for
another couple of dreary semesters in one of the flattest states in
the nation. I found a climbing gym on campus, but its offerings were a
bit meager, to say the least. Between schoolwork, a single wall in 
a warehouse, perhaps twenty-five feet high at most, and a lack of
partners in addition, climbing went on indefinite hiatus.

A few career fairs later, I found myself in Dallas, destined to spend
the next eight months in a state of perpetual perspiration. Within the
first few weeks of relocating, I found Stoneworks Silos (God bless the
internet), home of the "world's tallest indoor climb". I felt
rejuvenated. After a month or two, bored with constantly top roping,
and prodded on by a few of the more experienced climbers I had come to
befriend, I took the lead climbing class, and suddenly a whole new
world was opened to me. Finding myself on the sharp end, I came to
appreciate a new facet of climbing that was not so obvious while
safely tied into a top rope: fear. 

But along with the fear came its ever ebullient counterpart, joy. Joy
from the knowledge that I was one step closer to being a "real" rock
climber. For at about the same time I was learning to lead, I started
lurking on rec.climbing. After reading some beautiful TR's and some
amazing epics, I was hooked. I wanted to climb trad. Enough of this
ninny hanging on plastic cooped up inside a sweltering grain silo
bullshit, thought I - trad's where it's at. I was inspired. And with 
that in mind, I formulated a game plan. I learned how to lead. I got
more outdoor experience, top roping at nearby Mineral Wells, and some
sport climbing at Reimer's (dhuuude. . .). And I talked about climbing
trad to anyone that would listen, hoping that he or she would have a)
the requsite gear and b) the patience to teach a willing to learn but
rather inexperienced gym rat a thing or two about rock climbing.

I met Jeff whilst top roping one lazy Sunday at Mineral Wells. He also
had recently moved to Dallas, and when he mentioned that he was
thinking of trekking to the Wichitas for a climbing trip, alarm bells
fairly exploded in my head. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, I asked if he
had a partner (climbing, that is), and if not, would he be willing to
take me and teach me how to climb trad. When he affably agreed, I was
ecstatic. Finally, I thought, here is my chance.

And so that is how, a few weekends later, after leaving from Dallas
for Oklahoma at 8 pm on a Friday, we found ourselves staring at wildfires 
burning merrily in the Wichita Wildlife Refuge at one in the morning.
Neither of us had been there before, and had no idea where the fires
were in relation to the climbing areas. Nervously we drove through
smoke and ash and wound our way into the refuge where we headed to the 
camp site. Upon reaching the closed gate, we decided to just car camp 
in the parking lot. After we finally got settled in, a flashlight shone 
in the window, and a rather unfriendly ranger asked us what we thought 
we were doing there. A feeble attempt to convince him to let us stay 
failed, and we ended up driving around back in town for about 45 minutes 
trying to find a suitable place to pull in and sleep. Finally we 
decided on a small gas station cum diner, and nestled the car in 
behind a few trailers sans tractors.

After a fitful few hours of semi-sleep, we awoke to angry truckers
trying to maneuver their rigs around our car. Jeff lept out of the
backseat and we peeled out of the parking lot in a groggy daze. After
driving back to the refuge and finding out that access to the crag was
denied until the ungodly late hour of 9 am, we headed back to town
again and picked up some ice and Gatorade at a gas station. Sitting
outside in the chilly Oklahoma morning, Jeff grabbed his rack out of
the car and started teaching me scads of things that until now, I had
only read about. One by one, light bulbs started to wink on in my
mind. Ohh...so *that's* what a cordalette is. Ohh...so that's what a
tricam looks like. How do you use it? Oh neat - a clove hitch? Hmm...
no, I don't know what a Munter hitch is either. Jeff was great -
amazingly patient and highly concerned about teaching me safety. As
for myself, I was sucking up knowledge like a sponge. I listened with
both ears and tried to be a good student.

Finally nine o'clock rolled around and we made our way back to the
refuge, stopping along the way to snap a few photos of the numerous
buffalo wandering around. The approach to the Narrows was rather
short, and in no time, we were at the base of the Lichen Wall. For our
first climb, we decided on Ker Plunk, an easy two pitch 5.6 with some
nice exposure. We slowly made our way up to the top with Jeff leading
and myself cleaning. I felt great; this is what I had been itching for
for the last two months. After the rap down, we broke for lunch. (Yes -
only six lines of text to describe a two or so hours worth of 
climbing - we were that slow. :)

After lunch, we headed for the Zoo Wall in search of some more easy
5.6 routes. Jeff racked up for Dihedral, a nice looking dihedral (go
figure), and started up. After he set up his hanging belay (thanks to
slight route wandering), I followed again, all the while looking and
learning from his placements. Although Jeff had to set up a hanging
belay, there were actually two bolts a bit off to the right that he
had missed. We rapped down off of those and regrouped at the bottom.

And then, joy of all joys, he asked me if I wanted to try leading the
route. I was elated. Of course I wanted to lead the route! Jeff said
that he felt pretty confident while watching me place some pieces, and
since we had just done the route, he would be able to give me any beta
I needed. So I racked up and started up the route. The dihedral
offered plenty of good pro and plenty of easy stances from which to
place as well. With Jeff watching over me with an eagle eye, I made my
way up the route, although I stayed on route and headed for the fixed
anchors to belay from, rather than set up a hanging belay. Jeff
followed and critiqued my placements - on the whole they were pretty
good, but I had undercammed several times, and a few nuts were poorly
placed. Overall though, he was rather pleased and impressed to boot. I
could hardly express how happy I was, but I'm sure he could figure it
out. We rapped down again, but this time left the rope set up so we
could try one last top rope route (Crazy Alice maybe?) before heading 
back out. We packed up our gear, topped out, and made our way back to
the car, getting lost only slightly.

Dinner that night was to be had at Ryan's, a local joint with an
amazing all-you-can eat setup. Ravenous, I ate, what was in
retrospect, a bit too much of the fried food genre. Driving back to the
refuge for much needed sleep, Jeff unfortunately got pulled over by
the same ranger who had kicked us out of the park the previous night and 
got hammered with an $86 speeding ticket - ouch.

The next morning, we made our way back to the Narrows again, this time
to the Leaning Tower. Jeff lead Tight Rope, another easy 5.6, and I
followed soon thereafter. After a short scramble down, the fried
catfish from the night previous came back to haunt me, and I
experienced the chance to give a bit back to the refuge, in a manner
of speaking. Upon finishing my business, Jeff asked me if I wanted to
lead another route. "Of course," I replied as I reached eagerly for
his rack. I started up No Name, yet another 5.6 that ate up pro like a
champ. I started feeling much more confident in my placements after
Jeff had shown me what I was doing wrong the previous day. Towards the
top, I got on that marvelous route named "off route" and had to
downclimb a bit. I made my way over to a ledge and pondered my
choices. I was almost out of gear and still thirty feet from the top.
The route was really easy and I personally would have been comfortable 
technique wise simply running it out to the top, but I figured that 
would a) make Jeff pretty annoyed and b) not be very safe due to my 
lack of experience.  So I set up a nice belay station and Jeff began 
to follow.

While on the ledge, I had an amazing view of the river valley and the
surrounding plains. I felt like one of the creatures from the cave
that Socrates described who had been unchained and allowed into the
world, sans blinders. My conviction that trad climbing was The Right
Thing grew ever stronger, as I stared out into the beautiful Oklahoma
landscape belaying from that small ledge. It was perhaps one of the
most peaceful fifteen minutes of my life.

Jeff finally made his way up to the ledge and I explained what
happened. He was pleased that I had chosen to set up a belay station
as opposed to Being Dumb (tm). My passive placements had improved
noticably from the previous day, although I still needed work on
placing cams correctly. Since he had most of the gear, I handed
him what I had left, and he finished the last thirty feet or so. We
scrambled back down again and finished our half day of climbing. After
packing up and hiking out, we headed back to Dallas (and in time to
make the Simpsons, to boot).

Reflecting upon my heretofore limited climbing experience, I see a
rather long gestation period of gym climbing, followed by a brief
spurt of sport, and now here I am. Poised and ready to go forth into
the world. Already I am counting down the days until I can get out
again, and pinching the pennies to save for a rack which I can call my
own. For me, climbing is not an X-game to be shown on Espn2; nor is it
about pushing the numbers. No, I have found what I am looking for in this
sport. I've identified my own personal motivation. And simply, it is to 
go to amazing places on this beautiful earth and be.

/Alex