I took another calming breath, smiled at the world, wiggled my toes, and turned around continuing the climb.  The freedom was exhilarating, no harness, rope, belayer, or mental thickness.  Despite my spirit cartwheels I moved carefully up the rock, keeping my mind now/here. 

Free-soloing is dangerous, because a trip or stumble means death.  As a Rocky Mountain Rescue friend of mine put it:

 “I won’t free solo until I can go a year without tripping on the sidewalk, and that’s never happened.” 

The chances are too great that a slip will happen;  however, as another climber friend stated:

 “Free soloing on a grade you are really comfortable on is about as dangerous as skiing back country in Colorado; both have risks that are out of our control.”

I used to free solo stuff all the time as a kid; buildings, trees, rock.  My dad and I once got all the way up a chimney on the back side of Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills and couldn’t top out.  I freaked, cried, thought we were going to die, but my dad calmed me down and talked me through the careful downclimb. 

I pretty much gave up rock climbing at that point.  From age 12 to 20 I pursued other things, but then in college discovered climbing ropes and harnesses, and re-opened that door.  Today I love taking falls in the gym, pushing the limits of fear and climbing ability in a totally safe manner.  I regularly climb 5.12 on plastic, and occasionally push 5.13.  Outside I push 5.12 on a really good day, and often flash hard 5.11’s. 

Anyway, I don’t list these as a glory-seeking statement.  If there is one thing I’ve fully integrated while in Boulder, it’s that whatever your level there is always someone better, so quit with the ratings and get out and do it for yourself!  I merely state this to show that free-soloing the 1st Flatiron is well below my normal climbing limit, and on par with a grade I occasionally do in the gym with only one arm, or blind folded. 

I’ve stayed away from Trad because the limits are more nebulous than sport.  How far can one go between gear placements?  Where does trad end and fee-solo begin?  Earlier this summer I opened that door with a friend.  We simul-climbed the 5th Flatiron, and it was awesome, fun, and easy. 

Friday afternoon, when the right turn lane to my house was backed up with an abnormal amount of cars I went straight instead, and ended up standing on 1000 feet of rock on top of a Flatiron in my Vibram Five Fingers. 

Free soloing has been circling in my spirit ever since that day in the Black Hills with my dad.   I have two incredible friends, Scott, and Steph, I respect a lot, who explore the human spirit by walking the edges of fear and exhilaration through free soloing, base jumping, highlining, etc.  They have taught me lessons I might never have learned. I know the challenges are mental in free-soloing; the moves are easy, but the mind state is not. 

It is like many other things in my life that require moving to a place of consuming success.  Handling multi-million dollar space optics at work ;  driving a rescue vehicle with Boulder Emergency Squad; and belaying a good friend are all simple tasks with extreme consequences.  A “slip” is not an option, and so the mind must be prepared for cool, efficient, success. 

Friday’s climb was smooth like that, enthusiasm was held in check, and so was fear.  I felt both of them climbing beside me as silent companions; every once in awhile one would make a noise as if to distract me, but the other would say:

 “Shhh. Let Larkin climb!” and inner silence would remain.

Such endeavors pull me back to the sharp end of life, aware, conscious, here, full of power and succinctly able to create the moments of my future.

 The force of the collision pushed a shriek out of my lungs, and yet, when that shriek was finished I was still flying through the air, accelerating downward and outward, and so I quickly filled my lungs and let loose another.  And as a third shriek became a full whoop, falling became flying, and my motion changed from downward to up, and out…

A huge rope swing was set up on Monkey Face in Smith Rock State Park near Bend Oregon.  We had heard stories about it the day before from a local, along with a boast of “It was the most fun thing I have ever done.”  We hiked up to Monkey Face to take a look, and it was still rigged!

 I took pictures with the zoom lens and checked out the equipment.  The rigging looked bomber.  A double line for the swing, well backed up, and protected from abrasion dangled 100ft or so down from a prominent prow of the reverse tapering Monkey Face monolith. 

Plan A was simple, swing until I quite moving, then uncoil the swing ropes and rappel down the double line to the ground.  My ATC was already locked in, so I wouldn’t have anything to do, no rope transfers, rigging adventures, or possible mishaps.  Safe, simple, perfect.

The wind was intense!  After the 4^th swing my path changed orbit and I smacked into the Monkey Face tower, using my feet and legs as shock absorbers.  Finally I sat still dangling in space, over a hundred feet from anything except an overhung aid route.

…I sat in my harness, letting the adrenaline seep through my skin and float away on the breeze.  Looking up along the rope to the anchors I saw one of the climbers poking his head over the edge to check on my status.  I heard some excited voices from the rock I had launched from, as the nearby fabric of life rippled making room for the intense energy of the recent event. 

 The harness I had meticulously tightened while prepping for the swing was starting to cut off the blood flow to my legs as I sat in space and uncoiled the ropes.  My legs began to tingle as I lowered the lines toward the ground.   Fully uncoiled they dangled, and snapped in the breeze still far short of the rocks below…  Damn.

Plan B involved a complicated rope transfer with a single line rappel to the ground.  I had hoped to avoid this, but the swing turned out to be bigger than I thought.  I mentally added another 50ft to all my distance estimates which left me 120ft from the anchors and 150ft from the ground.  The peak of my swing probably put me close to 300ft off the deck with another 200-300ft down to the river below.  Wow!   It was one hell of a swing! 

Take a look at the photos my brother took, and the video Sophia took to get a good feel for the magnitude.  Major props to Joel for such an awesome rigging job.  I would have liked to meet you, but thanks for making it bomber and leaving it up an extra day.

Monkey Face Rope Swing Sequence (jump sequence as taken from my brother’s position).

I adjusted the angle of the light and it caught something reflective as Andy hauled himself across the untensioned highline back to the access tunnel. The smell of rust and the reverberating echoes of friends rigging the line filtered through my concentrating mind as I adjusted exposure settings on the camera. What a wild place!

The steel launch doors high above were painted red with sheets of rusted metal peeling off. Andrew sat on a stairway to nowhere surveying the operation; his shadow powerfully projected on the ceiling. Although no protection was set for the ascent A rope hung nearby for rappelling back down to the tunnel. The multitude of pipes, bolts, conduit, and miscellaneous hardware provided plenty of bomber hand and foot holds for easy ascent.

34′ below the highline the water reflected the blackness of above giving the launch tube an eerie bottomless appearance. It was impossible to say just how deep the water was, but probably over 50′ of rust, chemicals, and stagnant liquid. A fall from the walls of the tube or the line itself probably wouldn’t result in immediate death, but the thought of touching the toxic vat of liquid was quite unpleasant.

Friend after friend sent the 1st ever underground highline as I climbed around exploring and getting shots from various angles. The focused calm shown while on the line was inspiring. I tied in, and moved out on the line, sat for a moment, took a long slow breath, and then stood up. Wham! The unnatural energy of the place sucker-punched my balance, and put my concentration in a choke hold. I whipped under the line, caught by my harness, but loosing my hat to the blackness below. A couple more tries, each one accompanied by a fall, left me pensive, and bowled over by the freight train in my chest. I moved back to the solid ground, an edge found, a limit tested. No send today.

The explosion rocked the complex, reverberating through each of us with a shocking deep roar, a taste of what this place would have been like during a missile launch. Nice work friend, a bit of simple chemistry and preparation threw a whole new level of excitement in amongst an already pivotal mission. Passing the double 4” thick steel blast doors, was yet another reminder of the power that was once held underground here.

We made our way back above ground greeted by the hum of high voltage lines, a just-past-full moon, and a breeze of warm Colorado air. It was quite a different trip then the last exploration Buried Blackness and yet again amazing, exciting, full of good people, and adventuring. Thanks to all who made it great, the best sleepless adventure I’ve had in awhile.

I’ve been slacklining for about 6-7 months now.  It’s become a mild addiction, and I rarely go more than 3 or 4 days without setting one up.  We slacklined all over Spain, at the Spot in Boulder all summer, and almost daily in the parks adjacent to my house.  I slackline in my Vibram Five Fingers almost exclusively.  They give me more padding, great grip, and still allow a natural feel of the line.

The slacklining community in Boulder is incredible!  We have some of the best slackliners in the world here, and I am constantly astounded by flips, balance, flexibility, and general cool acrobatics wherever I slackline.  So basically, I suck… but I’m getting better quite quickly with the great tutelage of all these practiced masters.

My two previous highline attempts were really just a lot of falls, dealing with fear, and working to push the limits to somewhere I’ve never been.

Ninja Night Session Highline scared me intensely.  I guess I thought the heights wouldn’t be an issue for me.  I’ve been comfortable climbing rocks and trees forever.  I was roped in, so what’s the big deal?  Wow!  SCARY!  uncontrolled, night, blizzard, was far more intensity than I was ready for.

Jurassic Park Highline was way too long for my abilities, but I gave it a good go.  Maaaaybe took a step, and definitely some some serious whippers.

This one was Golden Spire Highline which is back at the same location as the Ninja Night Session; however, during the day, in good weather, and with more experience under my belt (or harness in this case).

Scott put together this awesome video and pics.  It really captures the happy, helpful mood of everyone, the intensity of the rigging, and gives me a shot of adrenaline when he takes the first person fall with the camera.  So cool!

Fun at the Golden Spire from Scott Rogers on Vimeo.

Thank you Scott, again for sharing a great morning, always such a pleasure.  The highlining of course, is great, but also the random dorky conversations, and deep contemplations of life’s purpose.

It was a strikingly beautiful area overlooking Lilly Lake and staged at the knees of Long’s Peak. Words don’t do much to describe such a place, so here are the photos.

Watching Scott prep for the walk was like watching anyone about ready to do something requiring every fiber of concentration and presence in the here/now moment.

I do it now to remember the feeling. A deep breath in through the nose, eyes clothes on the inhale, open on the exhale through pursed lips. One more, eyes open this time with a little movement in chest, fingers and toes to bring the presence into the body. This ritual brings me from grand thoughts of the universe back to the body that I occupy.

Driving emergent this morning was far from routine, and yet, the adrenaline is no longer at the edge of my control. It helps me be present without the inclusion of a single breath of fear.

Scott has mastered this with highlining, he is one of the few people with such control, and yet replaying my emergent run this morning, I know I can do the same.

In a sense, it is a loss, because that is why we all search for something extreme, to feel that rush, that extra-human experience, where adrenaline pushes us outside ourself into another world.

In another sense, it is the accidental goal achieved without consent, a wonderfully perfect surprise. Through becoming comfortable with sitting on the knife edge of existence one brings the entire external adrenaline-filled world into oneself. With those few deep breaths the high-speed adrenaline-universe and the peaceful internal-space become one, and our consciousness explodes and expands to encompass all.

As I sat there in the middle of the line and got ready to stand up, my thoughts ran away to the last time at the Golden Highline on a Ninja Night Adventure with Said and Scott. This time too, I stood, fell, bounced, and hung. It wasn’t the insane dark fearful chaos of last time, but despite months of processing and practice I still was not prepared for the mental clap egged on by the physics of gravity, and the human response to falling.

My huge whip

 Watching the rigging

One of the most strikingly positive things that occurred that day, was the teamwork of people who supported the limits-push. Amazing people, all together seeking new, extraordinary experiences and bouncing meaning and purpose in an epic teamwork send.

Rigging team

View down

The classic climb with michael on belay

Up the classic climb

Jurassic park

Scott poised to stand

Scott contemplates

Said wrote an amazing post as well with some stellar pics. (the one of me taking a whipper is from there)