New and Experienced Climbers Over 50 #27

Lori Milaswrote:

Only a tunic and stocking cap? Reminds me of one of my early morning hikes up here by the north fork of the American river, at least a mile and a half from my car, when a gentleman I called “naked man “came jogging toward me with only a stocking cap, not even a tunic. One of those times when you say “oh shit, what do I do now?”. 

Well, he was a serious runner!

Li Huwrote:

This diet sounds pretty reasonable. We’re probably roughly the same build from the sound of it, thanks for this.

Hey, this ongoing thread is all over the place, let's keep it rolling! 

And to add on the diet thing, I gave up regular evening desert and sweet drinks a long time ago too, another sacrifice for beer, there are just too many amazing beers these days to not try. It definitely helps me to get a regular yearly physical/blood work just to help keep track of what the body is doing and what I should be doing. 

People like all of us that still get after it at advanced ages are pretty rare these days, especially in the US

Lori Milaswrote:

Only a tunic and stocking cap? Reminds me of one of my early morning hikes up here by the north fork of the American river, at least a mile and a half from my car, when a gentleman I called “naked man “came jogging toward me with only a stocking cap, not even a tunic. One of those times when you say “oh shit, what do I do now?”. 

Was he barefoot? That's more (ahem) hard core than full nudity, trail running.

What do you do?

"G'morning!" With a little nod, lol!

Did he do anything, any acknowledgement of you at all?

......

Here, it's sorta thinking about spring, but the sort of coldish temps where, if it's sunny, no wind, you're fine. But even step into the shade, or a breeze, and you want the layers back on again. My bouldering crew and I are hoping for Tuesday. Dunno.

In the meantime, I'm working as much as possible to try and get what little of my yard remains, cleaned up ahead of spring. Big projects everywhere, including the long fencelines east and west. About 140 feet each. If you're tearing things up anyway, might as well just do the whole works, right?

Re fermented foods, you can brine all sorts of stuff. Just think pickles, but not vinegar ones. Dilly green beans brine recipe are great with asparagus! Look for really good sauerkraut in the refrigerated section. Bubbas is okay, but there's even better out there. 

Re "whole grain" foods, that takes very careful reading of labels. And, lately I am becoming suspicious of wheat, in particular. So many people have issues with it, and that isn't how it used to be. Processed food has destroyed our health, but so has agriculture. I'm now thinking spelt, emmer, or heirloom grains are what we are meant to eat, and it probably matters how they are grown, too. How it's grown certainly matters for everything else, why would grains be any different? My attitude has long been, that if I couldn't in theory produce this thing at home, I probably shouldn't be eating it. Now, that doesn't mean I'm going to do the whole thing myself, I can let other people do their thing, although, it is fun to take a shot at it! And, some do prefer their own processing. I have personally witnessed coffee beans roasted, yes roasted, then ground, then brewed.....and handed to me for a morning mug of coffee. Just in a home kitchen.

That's more than I wanna do, but I have tried a lot of home preservation/processing of stuff. It's a nice adjunct to being curious in the garden. Grow Oneida nation flour corn....and then discover how crazy it is to convert that to hominy. Nixtamalization! And then, for me, posole. Grinding grains is hard, although it would be a good workout, doing so by hand, lol! 

Re chia seeds? You can make "jam" using nothing but chia seeds and squashed fruit. That's it. No cooking. Sweeten only if you want to. 

Sauerkraut is .....cabbage and salt. FFS.

On and on. 

We did all of this eating thing for ourselves, forever, or cooperatively with others.

Until our lifetimes.

Now, most Americans are in bad health.

Hmmmmm.

Hey Helen,

I think you should be our resident foodie. Someone needs to be at the ready to provide insight and recipes. I nominate you.

Naked man was not wearing shoes. He only had on a ski cap. He did not waiver or slow down, but continued running, full throttle straight at me. I had my dog whiskey with me, a border collie, who would have licked the guy to death, but would not have defended me. So I turned the two of us around and ran for my life without ever looking back. So I don’t know how that story would have ended.

However, a more threatening situation arose with “spitting guy”. I was standing on a bluff, just gazing out at the river one day, when a rather rough looking guy walked right up next to me, and stood no more than 2 feet away and spit hard. Barely missed my foot and when I looked up he met my gaze and sneered.  

I was also becoming aware of the mountain lions in the area, and was always scanning the ground where I was hiking when one day when I asked Ranger about them was told that they are never on the ground, they lurk in the trees. And they leap from behind. This is about the time I realized maybe I shouldn’t be hiking alone in that area. Hello!   

—-

I like the idea of an ongoing conversation about diet and training because at a certain age we enter new territory and the old body cues fail. Most of the science is still pretty new, but the majority of commentary is that this thing we call aging is really a disease process. It’s the culmination of years of poor diet leading to overtime everything degrading. It’s like putting bad gas in the car and eventually the engine is knocking and then the whole thing just quits.

At least we’re getting a consensus on protein and some agreement on hydration.  But there’s always new data. Our Joshua Tree park service put out a announcement last week:

Never thought to attempt drinking 2 1/2 gallons of water, or even half that.  I just don’t experience much thirst and especially when it’s cold. I’ve been experimenting with electrolytes and things like and Nuun tabs to add flavor to the water. But being conscious of proneness to dehydration really helps.

This bad boy was loitering on a lawn in my old neighborhood.

I've compromised my role as Control Group by buying some whey protein to put in fruit smoothies and also drinking bottled chai as a substitute for the eggnog that disappears from stores on 1/2. But that's as far as I'm willing to go. 

Somebody's gonna have to do a lot of explaining to convince me that the sun is just as intense here in JT in the winter as it is in the summer.

Lori Milaswrote:

 I had my dog whiskey with me, a border collie, who would have licked the guy to death, but would not have defended me. So I turned the two of us around and ran for my life without ever looking back. So I don’t know how that story would have ended.

Why are you giving your dog whiskey? I should report you. :)

You should have brought a dog whistle, instead.

M Mwrote:

People like all of us that still get after it at advanced ages are pretty rare these days, especially in the US

I am not sure about this. Throughout my climbing career there have always been a few 'old timers' "getting after it" wherever I was climbing, but there appear to be many more of 'us' these days--both inside and out, than I ever recall encountering in the past. And overseas...when I was in Kalymnos the fall before COVID hit, it was basically a geriatric climber's unofficial rendezvous---and could some of those ladies and guys crank!!!!

In the US, at least, I get the sense that there is quite a dichotomy/--a large percentage of the population is out of shape and ageing poorly, but there is also a sizeable---and likely increasing--number who are remaining fit and active as we age.

Lori, spitting man seems like he was a lot more dangerous that naked man...   I am on a blue berry kick. my snacks are frozen wild blueberries. I often add maple syrup and yogurt or occasionally cream. Good thing I am a cretin ice climber and not a spurt climber ;)

Alan Rubinwrote:

I am not sure about this. Throughout my climbing career there have always been a few 'old timers' "getting after it" wherever I was climbing, but there appear to be many more of 'us' these days--both inside and out, than I ever recall encountering in the past. And overseas...when I was in Kalymnos the fall before COVID hit, it was basically a geriatric climber's unofficial rendezvous---and could some of those ladies and guys crank!!!!

In the US, at least, I get the sense that there is quite a dichotomy/--a large percentage of the population is out of shape and ageing poorly, but there is also a sizeable---and likely increasing--number who are remaining fit and active as we age.

I observed the same thing at El Potrero Chico a couple of weeks ago.  Many "senior" climbers, both men and women.  There was even one guy older than me!  I'm going to Kalymnos in May and from Alan's comments sounds like I won't have trouble finding partners.

Sadly there was a fatal rappelling accident on my last day at EPC. Young climber coming down a three pitch route in the dark.  No details yet on what went wrong.

My friend Eric has not been climbing since the 90s. had kids, wife doesn't climb, etc.  I got him out rock climbing once last summer despite all the rain and took him ice climbing today.  unfortunately we have had another warm up so the Lake was off the table and I had to do the sane thing and bring him up reasonable climbs in smuggs ;) 

We got lucky and his old white plastic Kolflachs didn't fall apart. 

Nick Goldsmithwrote:

I am on a blue berry kick. my snacks are frozen wild blueberries. I often add maple syrup and yogurt or occasionally cream. Good thing I am a cretin ice climber and not a spurt climber ;)

You are making akutuq, Nick. Sometimes called Eskimo ice cream. Just need to add some fat from tuttu (caribou) and some oil from ugruk (bearded seal). Whip it together with freshly fallen snow. Aarigaa!

Use the ugruk to make yourself a vest for your biathlon. Pants recommended, too. Running around naked is not a good idea up here.

Idaho Bobwrote:

I observed the same thing at El Potrero Chico a couple of weeks ago.  Many "senior" climbers, both men and women.  There was even one guy older than me!  I'm going to Kalymnos in May and from Alan's comments sounds like I won't have trouble finding partners.

Sadly there was a fatal rappelling accident on my last day at EPC. Young climber coming down a three pitch route in the dark.  No details yet on what went wrong.

Yes, I was in EPC a few years ago, and was far from the only 'senior citizen' climbing there---and clearly far from the best!!!!

Very sad to hear about the fatality there.

Idaho Bobwrote:

I observed the same thing at El Potrero Chico a couple of weeks ago.  Many "senior" climbers, both men and women.  There was even one guy older than me!  I'm going to Kalymnos in May and from Alan's comments sounds like I won't have trouble finding partners.

Sadly there was a fatal rappelling accident on my last day at EPC. Young climber coming down a three pitch route in the dark.  No details yet on what went wrong.

He was a guy from Denver. Really sad. 

Colden. I don't think it's cold enough here to run in sealskin vest....

Lori- the day’s water supply is: “a quart and a half per man per day”…. Everybody knows this.

Regarding "a quart and a half per man per day," here's an excerpt from my book Advanced Rock Climbing:

There’s no better way to get to know a cliff than to spend the night on it. It’s been many years since I last bivouacked on a big wall, but I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was during the first ascent of a new aid route up the East Face of Higher Cathedral Rock in Yosemite.

The route was remarkable for its sheerness—not even a ledge wide enough to lie down on for 2,000 feet—so all the belays and bivouacs were hanging. The climbing had been grueling, every foot gained up the wall a struggle; the cracks shallow and poor, without a solid placement for pitch after pitch, save for the bolts we slugged in at the anchors. 

As the sun slowly sank to the west, we realized we’d need to set up a hanging bivouac. We drilled a few bolts, spread out horizontally, to hang our single-point suspension portaledges.

My partner, Alan Bartlett, had been around the block a few times—with 4,000 Joshua Tree routes under his belt and first ascents all over the place—but he’d never done a hanging bivouac. Alan’s buddy, Steve Gerberding, who’d climbed El Cap a hundred times (not an exaggeration!), loaned him a portaledge so well rigged that, within minutes, Alan was comfortably reclining on it drinking a warm beer, a smile on his face.

We snacked on salami, cheese, crackers, and nuts and spoke optimistically that the next day would bring better cracks. As the alpenglow slowly faded from the West Face of Sentinel Rock, I drifted into a deep sleep. I awoke sometime in the middle of the night, disoriented until I got my bearings: No, this isn’t my bedroom; I’m hanging off a wall in Yosemite! I settled into this reality and took in the otherworldly scene. A full moon shone above the valley rim, silhouetting the soaring Cathedral Spires. Hundreds of bats poured out of some crack high above, cavorting in the moonlight in great swirling torrents.

Dawn on a big wall in Yosemite Valley is a magical experience—the sunlight gradually illuminating the rock forms in a grand light show. We we had decided not to bring a stove, to save weight, but since I was a coffee junkie I had brought chocolate-covered espresso beans for my caffeine fix.

Once we started climbing, our optimism for solid placements quickly faded, with another day of tedious, scary aid climbing, pitch after pitch, then another hanging bivouac. The next day was more of the same, and we grew tired and frustrated at our slow progress. Our physical and mental resources were dwindling, as was our water supply. With only a couple hundred feet to go we were forced to bivouac again.

While packing for the climb, Alan said he would adhere to what Steve Roper recommended in his Climber’s Guide to Yosemite Valley, published in 1971: “At least one and a half quarts of water per man per day should be taken in midsummer.” Normally I allotted myself 1 gallon per day, which is good rule for wall climbing in the summer in Yosemite. But water is a heavy. One gallon weighs about 8 pounds, so there’s a balance between how much water you’ll need and how much you can carry and haul up the climb. The weather was nice and cool, so I reduced my ration too.

We’d separated our personal water supplies, and that night at the bivouac, I realized that my stash had dwindled to only a single quart, for that night and all the next day.

The last couple of pitches went slower than we’d anticipated, since we had to hand-drill several bolts, but by noon we topped out under a scorching sun, relieved to be off the wall, but out of water and surrounded by a couple hundred pounds of gear. 

With all the hardware in the haul bag, it weighed about 175 pounds; and by the time I staggered down to the valley floor with that pig on my back, I’d never been so thirsty in all my life. In my car I had an ice chest with a stash of water that was still ice cold. Nothing I’d ever drank had ever tasted so good, or been as deeply satiating.

Alan’s Toyota truck shell had deep bear claw scrapes down the side, and his back hatch was partially mangled from an attempt to pry it off. Underneath his car were dangling wires, like the bear had torn them apart just for spite. In the bed of his truck was a plainly visible Igloo cooler. “You didn’t have any food in there, did you?” I asked Alan. “Only chocolate doughnuts” was his response. Luckily, he was able to drive away.

Lessons learned: Don’t leave food in your car; and don’t bring less than a gallon of water per person, per day, on a summer big wall climb in Yosemite.

Bob good story and a good lesson. 1.5 quarts is definitely not enough for a day.
One of my earliest lessons, at the Needles, with Mike Pope was don’t drop the water. We didn’t plan on a bivouac but our late start, slow aid climbing and unexpected climb length found us benighted. We were 1 pitch short of a “big ledge” that was described in Becky’s 3 sentence description of “the pea soup” Class 4, 5.9 A3. We were stopped by darkness. Mike was lucky enough to find the one bolt on that face pitch and had lowered down to my rather cramped, awkward position in a sloping chimney- this was it - no more progress till we could see. We made the best of it, breaking out the food- saltine crackers and a can of sardines. We ate the sardines with our fingers and crackers and washed it down with some water. Mike shook our bottle and said “we still have plenty left for tomorrow”. He placed the bottle on a small ledge. While struggling to get comfortable One of us- I say Mike, he says Me - knocked it off! A few seconds later we could hear the impact! With that Mike dug out the remaining crackers and said “well we don’t need these now” and tossed them overboard. We were climbing again as soon as we could see and made good time- freeing the remaining two A3 bits and were on the summit at noon. We were both so thirsty it was hard to speak. We started down I found “a spring” really just some muddy dirt. Mike put his boot print into the mud and we watched it slowly fill with water. “You first he said” and I happily stuck my face in there sucking up the most delicious water and muck. It tasted better than anything I had ever drank before. I learned some valuable lessons on that one. Ones I never forgot or made again.

Bob Gaineswrote:

Regarding "a quart and a half per man per day," here's an excerpt from my book Advanced Rock Climbing:

There’s no better way to get to know a cliff than to spend the night on it. It’s been many years since I last bivouacked on a big wall, but I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was during the first ascent of a new aid route up the East Face of Higher Cathedral Rock in Yosemite.

The route was remarkable for its sheerness—not even a ledge wide enough to lie down on for 2,000 feet—so all the belays and bivouacs were hanging. The climbing had been grueling, every foot gained up the wall a struggle; the cracks shallow and poor, without a solid placement for pitch after pitch, save for the bolts we slugged in at the anchors. 

As the sun slowly sank to the west, we realized we’d need to set up a hanging bivouac. We drilled a few bolts, spread out horizontally, to hang our single-point suspension portaledges.

My partner, Alan Bartlett, had been around the block a few times—with 4,000 Joshua Tree routes under his belt and first ascents all over the place—but he’d never done a hanging bivouac. Alan’s buddy, Steve Gerberding, who’d climbed El Cap a hundred times (not an exaggeration!), loaned him a portaledge so well rigged that, within minutes, Alan was comfortably reclining on it drinking a warm beer, a smile on his face.

We snacked on salami, cheese, crackers, and nuts and spoke optimistically that the next day would bring better cracks. As the alpenglow slowly faded from the West Face of Sentinel Rock, I drifted into a deep sleep. I awoke sometime in the middle of the night, disoriented until I got my bearings: No, this isn’t my bedroom; I’m hanging off a wall in Yosemite! I settled into this reality and took in the otherworldly scene. A full moon shone above the valley rim, silhouetting the soaring Cathedral Spires. Hundreds of bats poured out of some crack high above, cavorting in the moonlight in great swirling torrents.

Dawn on a big wall in Yosemite Valley is a magical experience—the sunlight gradually illuminating the rock forms in a grand light show. We we had decided not to bring a stove, to save weight, but since I was a coffee junkie I had brought chocolate-covered espresso beans for my caffeine fix.

Once we started climbing, our optimism for solid placements quickly faded, with another day of tedious, scary aid climbing, pitch after pitch, then another hanging bivouac. The next day was more of the same, and we grew tired and frustrated at our slow progress. Our physical and mental resources were dwindling, as was our water supply. With only a couple hundred feet to go we were forced to bivouac again.

While packing for the climb, Alan said he would adhere to what Steve Roper recommended in his Climber’s Guide to Yosemite Valley, published in 1971: “At least one and a half quarts of water per man per day should be taken in midsummer.” Normally I allotted myself 1 gallon per day, which is good rule for wall climbing in the summer in Yosemite. But water is a heavy. One gallon weighs about 8 pounds, so there’s a balance between how much water you’ll need and how much you can carry and haul up the climb. The weather was nice and cool, so I reduced my ration too.

We’d separated our personal water supplies, and that night at the bivouac, I realized that my stash had dwindled to only a single quart, for that night and all the next day.

The last couple of pitches went slower than we’d anticipated, since we had to hand-drill several bolts, but by noon we topped out under a scorching sun, relieved to be off the wall, but out of water and surrounded by a couple hundred pounds of gear. 

With all the hardware in the haul bag, it weighed about 175 pounds; and by the time I staggered down to the valley floor with that pig on my back, I’d never been so thirsty in all my life. In my car I had an ice chest with a stash of water that was still ice cold. Nothing I’d ever drank had ever tasted so good, or been as deeply satiating.

Alan’s Toyota truck shell had deep bear claw scrapes down the side, and his back hatch was partially mangled from an attempt to pry it off. Underneath his car were dangling wires, like the bear had torn them apart just for spite. In the bed of his truck was a plainly visible Igloo cooler. “You didn’t have any food in there, did you?” I asked Alan. “Only chocolate doughnuts” was his response. Luckily, he was able to drive away.

Lessons learned: Don’t leave food in your car; and don’t bring less than a gallon of water per person, per day, on a summer big wall climb in Yosemite.

Wow, this was incredibly well written! I almost don’t have to climb to feel as if on the wall myself.   

Alan Rubinwrote:

I am not sure about this. Throughout my climbing career there have always been a few 'old timers' "getting after it" wherever I was climbing, but there appear to be many more of 'us' these days--both inside and out, than I ever recall encountering in the past. And overseas...when I was in Kalymnos the fall before COVID hit, it was basically a geriatric climber's unofficial rendezvous---and could some of those ladies and guys crank!!!!

In the US, at least, I get the sense that there is quite a dichotomy/--a large percentage of the population is out of shape and ageing poorly, but there is also a sizeable---and likely increasing--number who are remaining fit and active as we age.

I would counter that your observation is from within our climber bubble which was basically my point, us older climbing addicts are a pretty healthy bunch. While the average older American thinks walking a mile or two a day is a complete workout , we do it with heavy packs on to get to the real workout! 

I'm trying to think of a fairly low impact activity that folks do past 50 that compares to our full body workout and I'm stumped. Yoga and pickleball come to mind , golf is out, especially since actually walking 18 holes is unheard of these days.