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Presumably, you have already read my previous post entitled ‘Kuala Lumpur’ (if not, read it here) and therefore understand a bit about my situation in the Malaysian city. I’ll pick up this section of my adventure on the 3rd day in that particular country. Edwin and I planned to wake early that Wednesday morning and head straight for a popular and easily accessible crag to nail down a 3 pitch route before lunch.

For those of you who are reading this without prior knowledge of climbing terminology, a pitch is essentially half a rope length. One realizes how useless such a definition is when they learn that ropes come in all sorts of different lengths. Therefore, it is more accurate to define a pitch as about 90ft of climbing (in this case). After each pitch, the leading climber must set themselves up to safely belay the following climber up that pitch. Sometimes pitches will end at convenient belay positions such as ledges, however, they often end on vertical stretches in which case the leading climber will attach themselves to the wall and essentially hang their while they belay the second climber.

After about 45 minutes of weaving through the half empty skyscrapers and crowded city streets of Kuala Lumpur, we arrived at our destination. The crag was part of an adventure park that had rock climbing and base jumping. We shared the dirt parking lot with no other vehicles and the wall with no other humans. It was already beginning to heat up, so we got right to it, pulling on harnesses and flaking rope as the sun began to reflect off the colorful huts behind us.

I led the first pitch to warm up and could feel that I was out of shape having not climbed regularly in a month or more. Nevertheless, the limestone there is so perfectly shaped in places that it seems almost like one is in a gym and not on real rock. Deep pockets and large ridges indicate stellar handholds while the feet can rest on any one of innumerable horizontal cracks or vertical bulges that populate the face. At least on this route, the climbing was easy and honestly a bit mechanical which can make for a boring, monotonous experience. However, for me the vibrant diverse colors making up the neighborhoods below me and the lush greens of the jungle that bordered the neighborhoods allowed for plenty of enjoyment in themselves. To be climbing in such a place, no matter the quality of the route, is a fulfilling experience in itself.

The gym-like qualities of the wall began to disappear as we moved into the second and third pitches; I began to feel the strain in my arms that comes when my footwork is poor and I’m gripping the wall too tightly. By the time we repelled down for lunch, I was drenched in sweat and my arms were pumped out enough to worry me for the days ahead. After lunch, we headed back to the crag for one more pitch before calling it a day. Edwin challenged me to lead a 6c (5.11a) since, apparently, I had made the previous route (6b, 5.10b) look easy. I having never successfully completed a route higher than 6b (5.10b), boldly accepted and began the ascent. It went easy for the first 20 or so meters at which point I reached the crux: a 2 meter slab of featureless (to me) slippery rock with a steel staircase perfectly poised in the fall zone to break my legs.

Considering my out-of-shapeness and proximity to that deceitfully innocent steel railing, my mind decide then would be a good time to lose all climbing ability. Staring at those couple meters of challenging rock, I saw no possible manner in which to continue my ascent.

Edwin called out from below that it was far easier to move to the right and around the corner before continuing (I’m not sure if on-sighting is a thing in Malaysia or if they just don’t care, but boy can they spray beta). Naturally, I followed his advice and began to traverse around the corner. This put me in even greater risk of bone-snapping in the event of a fall, but the rock was far more featured and easier to climb so I kept moving up.

My crux , seeing as I was off-route by this point and cannot claim to have completed the actual 6c crux, involved inserting my right middle finger into a solid pocket just large enough for it and leaning way out to the left to clip the next piece of protection on the original route.

I had clipped myself into a bolt on the face next to the one I was supposed to be climbing to protect against any falls toward that railing. Having successfully completed my first fail on the route, I hung on the rope and took some deep breaths in an attempt to regain a proper headspace. It didn’t work and I just started climbing again anyway.

I ran into another issue almost immediately when I was confronted with a slightly overhanging move for which I had little energy and even less mental fortitude. Edwin yelled up that I could traverse left and go around it and so, shamelessly, I did.

It is important to note that under normal circumstances I would simply back off the route or hang and rest until I regained enough composure to push through the cruxes, however, for some reason this time – even though I was very much ready to be done with that route – I kept going.

I moved about 4 meters to the left before I actually started ascending again. I saw no bolts above me and no alternative opportunities for protection until I reached the top, which happened 8 meters away and up. Nevertheless, I climbed on. Everything went smooth until I reached the final move.

My mind already beginning to fry from the run out (a fall at this point would have probably sent me swinging right back into that cursed railing, now 15 or so meters below) and the final move was a committing friction mantel.

Those of you who have climbed with me know that I am not a fan of friction moves, especially when screwing it up results in a 20 meter whipper. The consideration of my circumstances finalized the frying of my mental state and sent a shot of adrenaline through my system. I yelled to Edwin that I needed slack so I could cleanly stand up after the mantel, but the rope had so much friction from my sideways traverse and the manner in which it was threaded up towards me that I couldn’t tell if he had given me any. Furthermore, I could not clearly hear Edwin at this point so whatever he called to me in response to my request was lost in the journey up to me.

At this point I was so done with the climb that I didn’t care. I planted my palms as best I could against the mid-angle lump in front of me and hopped my right foot up next to my right hand. Applying pressure to the foot I began to stand – a mere meter from the anchors – and abruptly felt the pull of the taut rope; I had not been given the requested slack.

Fortunately, I was still somewhat stable and able to scream, in what must have sounded like a quite desperate voice, that I needed slack. This time the request was answered by a loosening of the rope. I stepped with great relief onto the top-out ledge, shaking.

The next days went basically as follows: wake early, climb all morning, eat lunch, climb more, shower, go out for dinner with Edwin’s family or just alone. It was truly all I could’ve asked for. One of the days we made an excursion into the jungle to climb a giant limestone dome that allowed us a spectacular view of pristine jungle to the east of us and a lesser developed suburb to the immediate west; a true image showing the dichotomy of humans and nature. After those four pitches ascending out of the jungle, we went to the climbing gym to play around in the air conditioning which was great because the gym was quite nice and nearly empty (a combination rarely, if ever, found in the states), this meant we got free reign on whatever routes we wanted to play on. Thus, we left the gym completely and utterly exhausted after having jumped on route after route for a couple of hours.

On the final day, we headed out to the same crag as the first day to get a final couple pitches before my flight left at 6. We met up with some friends of Edwin and some other climbers who were already occupying the crag. The routes were good and I got to save one guys quickdraw when he had to bail off a particularly tough route. After lunch that day we rushed back to get cleaned up before Edwin took me to the airport (being the incredible host he is). I said goodbye in the car and felt the bittersweet emotions that come with the frequent departures while traveling. Hopefully I will see Edwin again when we go to summit Mt. Rainier!