The Cleanest Line

Post RAGBRAI – Riding the Bike Ride I Didn't Train For

by Brittany Griffith

I was actually pretty anxious about going on RAGBRAI. I didn’t really know what to expect. I travel extensively to the far corners of the world, but always as a climber, with the security of other climbers and knowing, to some extent, what the climbing experience will be like. Editor's note: If you missed it, check out Brittany's pre-race training post before reading on.

As I sat delayed in the Minneapolis airport awaiting my flight to Cedar Rapids staring blankly at the flight information screen, I started to fret. I only knew my uncle. Would the remaining 18 people that made up the Regulators (who were mostly cops) like me? Think I was an idiot (I still hadn’t sat on a road bike)? Go to bed at 8pm and wake up before dawn? Know that I have unpaid speeding tickets in three states? Would they make me wear a purple wig?

Some of my fears were dispelled upon seeing the team’s bus. It was bigger than the Gypsy Van, had a full-sized storage freezer turned giant cooler, and stripper poles.

Above: Tony and Dean load the rig. Photo: BAG iPhone]

Latok Northwest Face

by Josh Wharton

The incredible northern aspect of Latok I (~7200 meters) needs no introduction as one of the world’s greatest unclimbed mountain escarpments. Since the historic first attempt by an American team in 1978 (still holders of the current highpoint), the peak has seen more then 30 unsuccessful expeditions. Although it has been climbed once from the south, via a serac-threatened snow route in 1979, an ascent from the Choktoi Glacier remains one of the greatest challenges in the Karakoram.

I first became infatuated with Latok in 1998, at a small slideshow by the accomplished American alpinist Jeff Lowe, a participant in the 1978 expedition. I felt the mountain was the best combination of aesthetics and difficulty that I’d ever seen, and dreamed of one day being capable of climbing it in alpine style. By 2007 I felt I had gained the requisite skills and experience, and made my first expedition to Latok. Completely shut down by poor weather, I returned again in 2008 and 2009. On each trip, my partners and I were thwarted by weather, conditions, or both.

[Photo: Latok I and II, showing the infamous North Ridge outlined by the sun-shade line dropping from Latok I’s west summit. The lines show possible routes of ascent. The lower 500 meters is blocked from view by a smaller peak in the foreground (outlined in black for clarity). From the final bivouac (marked by a small white triangle), we will traverse easy snow slopes along the South Face to the summit, before reversing our path of ascent.]

Notes from Squamish

by Kelly Cordes

I am loath to admit it, but Colin Haley was right. He’s been singing the praises of the Pacific Northwest in summertime, proclaiming it better than my beloved ‘Rado. At last, I humbly concede (although they pay for it the rest of the year, with continual grayness and rain). I’m wrapping up a trip to Squamish, and it’s been a touch of paradise. I feel it’s changed me and my cynical, critical, judgmental nature. Here, a few notes:


[Inspiration for my shift toward unabridged positivity. Namaste. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

• Day one, my SLF (special lady friend) and I go cragging in the afternoon, and I lead a thin slab in the full sun. It’s still like a million degrees cooler than back home, even in mid-summer. Sonnie Trotter happens to be trail running past, and as he looks up he probably thinks, who’s the idiot climbing that route in the sun? Silly tourist… followed by, wait! I know that mullet! Next thing we know, Sonnie comes up to say hello and chat. Says he wasn’t thinking that at all. T’was a pattern of friendliness that’s repeated itself in myriad forms during our stay. People here are so nice.

Nature, Culture and Pleasure in Corsica

by Jasmin Caton

Corsica is a mountainous French island in the Mediterranean, and according the The Lonely Planet Guide, "it's hard to find a better combination of nature, culture and pleasure". With a description like that, it's pretty hard not to want to make a trip there! But as I was planning my annual spring Euro climbing vacation, I found it hard to get a sense of the quality and quantity of the climbing in Corsica, and after visiting many of the ultra-classic French climbing zones like Ceuse, the Gorges du Verdon, Presles and the Gorges du Tarn, all of which I could easily revisit, I wondered if Corsica was going to stand up to my high standards of French stone.

[I shouldn't have worried... Photo: Jasmin Catin]

Going Monk?

by Kelly Cordes

I gotta dig down, I gotta go monk. Ever seen Zoolander? Of course you have. Me, too – about a hundred times. It’s a hilarious spoof on the world of male modeling, and there’s that classic scene of the “walk-off” challenge when, between rounds, Hansel digs deep and pulls out what’s needed to win the comp. Thus it seemed fitting to Jonny Copp and me, in 2003, to name our new route “Going Monk.” High on an obscure peak in the East Fork of the Kahiltna, as a storm rolled in, we continued, driven, summiting in a whiteout and fighting through a spooky descent.

I wrote about inspiration, Jonny and my love for climbing in the mountains in a recent piece, The Art of Disaster Style, published in the latest Elevation Outdoors. Funny thing is that for the photo of Jonny on our route, they wrote a serious caption referencing our route name (Jonny would have loved it!). Same with a Rock & Ice editor back then, when they did a news piece and the editor asked, “Did you guys name it ‘Going Monk’ because you saw God?” Me, completed flummoxed: “Nah man, haven’t you seen Zoolander?”

Flash forward to ten days ago: Justin Woods and I sit on a ledge 12 pitches up the Eye Tooth. Massive avalanches roar through the cirque, crashing down from the mid-day heat melting the snowpack. Alive. We’re totally safe, out on a pillar, though Justin hacks like a smoker – or, to extend the Zoolander thing – a longtime coal miner.

[Black lung and all, Justin Woods leading on the west face of the Eye Tooth, Alaska. Photo: Kelly Cordes]

Indian Creek Reflection, Before It All Slips Away

by Luke Mehall

The good times are moving fast these days, zipping by as we fly through space on this big ball of rock. As a writer it is my job to record, to pause, to go back in time, if only slightly, and squeeze the juice out of divine moments, and leave something special for those that read.

I once had a Recreation professor in college that would say our moments in the outdoors have less meaning if we don’t reflect upon them afterwards. I think it’s technically called a debrief. I find truth in that idea as I sit here and write now, recharging and reenergizing for the next climbing excursion.

The red rock desert of Indian Creek canyon is my home. I would not be opposed to have my ashes scattered there after my time here is done. I cannot fathom death now, being so alive, yet someday it will come. I just hope I can grow old, write, climb, and love more than I already have. I’ve got plans and dreams.

This place, a seemingly endless corridor of red rock walls and towers with perfect cracks, little trace of man’s impacts, desert trees and bushes, free camping in the truest sense of the word, birds, lizards, bunny rabbits, and deer; it is a life changing place. Personally it consumes me, and living in Durango, Colorado just two and a half hours away, well it’s a part of my existence, and it gives and takes energy to be a part of this place.

[The Reservior Wall (currently closed for Peregrine falcon nesting) reflects below. Photo: Braden Gunem] 

Training for the Bike Ride I’m Not Training For

by Brittany Griffith



Bleeding sunburns and limping – those were my earliest memories of people returning from RAGBRAI. What’s that? You don’t know what RAGBRAI is? (I’m just as shocked when people don’t know what RAGBRAI is as the Canadian who realizes that Americans don’t know who Terry Fox is.) RAGRBRAI is an acronym for Registers Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. Yes, that’s right – a bike across the entire state of Iowa. RAGBRAI is a non-competitive bike ride that starts on Iowa’s western border by dipping a rear tire in the Missouri, and ends, approximately 475 miles later, on the eastern border, after dipping a front tire in the Mississippi. The ride averages around 70 miles a day. Currently, close to 10,000 riders participate in this every year. If you are from Iowa, you have to do it at least once in your life to be considered a true Iowan. Or at least house, feed, shower, or cheer on a rider.

RAGBRAI stops at eight host communities along the way with the route changing every year. The whole state awaits the announcing of the route, which happens in March. Trust me, it’s a BIG deal in Iowa if RAGBRAI stops in your town. The whole town goes ape shit and it’s all anybody talks about for months.

[Above: If you don't like the way I ride, stay off the sidewalk! All photos: Brittany Griffith Collection]

A Sort of Homecoming

by Kelly Cordes



Dude at curbside didn't budge from his chair. Gave me a bored look.

"Can you take my bags?" I asked.

He sighed. "How much they weigh?"

"'Bout 65 pounds each. I already checked 'em in online."

"Still gotta take 'em inside," he said, barely moving. "They're too heavy."

"You sure? Because I'm allowed three 70-pound bags and I only have two," I said, with a hint of smug pride at coming in light for a climbing trip – a lifetime first. His boredom shifted to confusion, like he knew what this meant but it didn't jibe with what stood before him: a scarred and scraggly dude in a baggy T-shirt who limped from the car in a bad mullet. Side note: in a case of mistaken brilliance, I gave my mullet a homemade trim before leaving for the airport. I botched it. Bad. It now looks terrible.

Dude stood up. Looked at his printout.

"First class, Premier Status," I said, flashing a nonchalant sideways glance. 

"I'd be happy to help you with that, Mr. Cordes! Going to Anchorage, correct?"

[Above: Kelly Cordes descending London Tower after the first ascent of the Trailer Park. Photo: Scott DeCapio]

Captain Bumbly and the Hammershark

by Kelly Cordes



Dammit Hammershark, I mumbled as CFS and I began rapping from Mammoth Terrace – 10 pitches up El Cap – to the ground, in the dark. Someone had forgotten our food bag. Granted, Hammershark had nothing to do with it, but he was outvoted. (We had to blame someone.) CFS and I were the last to leave the truck, and somehow spaced the food bag. Surely it had nothing to do with our midday margarita sendoff. None of us had (or have) ever climbed El Cap – “The Captain.” We were off to a helluva start.

CFS and I jugged back up in the morning, and the cluster began. I’ve gone stupid-light on plenty of climbs, but stupid-heavy? Gimme the manspoon over slow and heavy any day. I’d never done a climb using bigwall party tactics – I’m a bigwall bumbly for sure – and I’d soon discover why they call big haul bags “the pigs.”

But we’d have none of that. Ever since my New Year’s Resolution, I’ve been trying to be more positive.

[Above: Captain Bumbly slide show by Kelly Cordes.]

Watch "Shattered" a Short Film Featuring Patagonia Ambassador Steve House

by Tyler Stableford



You've no doubt seen Tyler Stableford's name many times in the Patagonia catalog – his iconic photos have graced the pages for years. Today, we're excited to share Tyler's new video project featuring Patagonia ambassador Steve House. Enjoy the film and a three-part behind-the-scenes series after the jump.

We are excited to premiere our new short film Shattered online this week. The 5-minute film, shot with the new Canon EOS-1D X camera, is live on Vimeo and Canon's Digital Learning Center along with three behind-the-scenes features.

Shattered holds a special place in my heart, as it is a co-creation with the legendary alpinist and writer Steve House. After achieving one of his dream summits, Steve found himself bereft, searching for deeper meaning in his life. Shattered shares a window into his inner journey.

Steve is heralded in the climbing world for his minimalist approach to climbing, and our filming style echoed this sparsity. We set our intentions on creating a visual poem, a short film sculpted to its ethereal essence.