Spray

Joe Kinder on Surf Safari
We were up in Northern Cali tying things up and were ready to do something new and fresh. I suggested a few places and everyone was like “No, it’s too hot” or “No, it’s too hot and crowded”. Then I suggested Mickey’s Beach…Ahhh, they agreed to go.

We made the six hour drive down the coastline, and it was Bananas; I have only seen that kind of scenery in movies (remember that movie Poetic Justice with Tupac? Mad cheesy movie, but dope scenery.  I kinda felt like Tupac too. Whatever…moving on). We arrived at Mickey’s Beach around 3 in the afternoon. The area was huge! Small rock chucks stuck up all over the place and none of us had a guidebook. We knew Surf Safari was there, but we had no idea where it was - or where any of the routes were. Chris recalled he had been there when he was a little kid to try Surf Safari, and vaguely remembered where it was, where to park, and how to approach it.  So we followed him and, sure enough, found ourselves standing beneath the route.

Now, I know the route is no “King Line” or “Queen Line”, but MY eager ass wanted to do it. Bad. Everyone else could have cared less.  But you know what?  You know why I wanted to do that route so bad?  For the sole reason that it represented a progressive time in my generation.  I was 15 when I read about Chris Sharma climbing Surf Safari. It was 5.14a and a BIG DEAL to me and me friends. That shit pushed us to try harder, and motivated us to climb 5.11b! That kind of thing is important to me, and to climb that route was sort of paying homage to the past and “ground layers”. AIGHT!?

So we got there, warmed up on the route, and I did it next try. It’s probably an easy 5.13c to be honest…but that’s beside the point! The wind blowing, the ocean was blasting below the route and the belay, there were seagulls bombing all around, and there we were putting the smack down on Surf Safari.  DAMN RIGHT! 

The experience was short lived, but the mission was executed perfectly. I got to climb the route that originally inspired me to me say “SHARMA!” when sticking dynos (like when basketball players slam dunk and yell “KOBE!”).  It was a necessary detour and I was psyched we made it happen. Is the route a must do? I don’t know. Who am I to judge? Go see for yourself…we did.

Chris Lindner on a Window of Opportunity
Exploration, discovery, and establishment of the next “Most Beautiful Route in the World” had been on my mind going into the trip; I had hoped to discover a proper candidate to fill this void along the Nor-Cal coastline. I spent countless hours on Google Earth prior to the trip, tracking the coastline from San Francisco to the border of Washington and spotting just a few hopeful destinations…but nothing concrete. I figured I'd just have to do it the old fashioned way and look with my own eyes.

We started filming the video in the spots we knew we could nail down some solid footage, and occasionally I would drive off along the coastline for a couple hours or even a few days at a time, just to hike and search. At one point, my buddy Reece and I drove about halfway up the Oregon coast to meet my good friend Ben Moon, surf, and search in his neck of the woods. This only yielded a couple days of fun surfing, not the perfect line I was looking for.

The rest of the crew was getting anxious to move south, towards drier conditions and better climbs. So, empty-handed, I followed them to Mickey's Beach. I knew damn well I wasn't going to find my line down there, but I followed the group anyway, trying not to be a hassle. The six hour drive down south ate me up, and after spending just a few short hours at Mickey's Beach, I told the crew I had to do what I had to do…and what I had to do was find the route of my dreams. I did a U-turn and drove all night, applying myself to the search yet again. I drove and hiked all the way up into southern Oregon, checking out some areas I had glossed over on my previous trip. I finally I settled on a piece of rock that I had walked by in the past. (The north side of the rock had been bolted and climbed by my friend Eric Camello using removable bolts.) This time though, I noticed a much steeper, harder line on the West face; I rapped down and started theorizing a sequence. After several dead ends, I saw a line of holds I thought was questionably doable and decided to sack up and go for it. Like, Eric I used removable gear. I drilled four holes on the 50-foot, ocean-facing prow, and pounded in some Fixe removable bolts.

Unfortunately, routes that start at the foot of the Pacific Ocean carry a few problems. The biggest was the horrible humidity, in the air and on the rock, which rendered it simply unclimbable at times. The other problem was that the waves literally crashed against the rock all day, except for an hour or two during low tide. I tried it through mixed conditions until, finally, the "Window of Opportunity" opened, allowing me to make the send of what might be the most beautiful route of my life.

Luke Parady, the great escape
The crew decided to take care of business on our only rest day of the trip.  Brian and Chris took care of website stuff, Joe and Colette dealt with technical difficulties concerning a new poster, and Vanessa and I had other business in mind: a decent meal.  With a tip from a local friend we headed to the Larupin Café.  Situated on the Pacific coast between Arcata and somewhere else, Larupin Cafè is rumored to be kept in business by the local budding Tony Montanas who frequent it. I don’t know if the rumors are true, but I know that we ate like kingpins, enjoying a delicious (and expensive) meal that was served to us on an Oriental rug tablecloth. The food was fresh, the wine was local and everything was perfect.  It’s just too bad the rest of the gang couldn’t join us for our little escape before heading back to our cozy parking lot and the climbing bum life.

Colette McInerney, for the record
The funny thing about making a climbing movie is that there’s actually work involved. Most think you get to just chill and climb all day, but the truth is you have to belay for hours, shoot till you’re too tired to send, and move on to new areas before you're ready. There are budgets and shots, egos and deadlines. Considering my ability, most of my footage and photos were on climbs I could do first or second go, which limited me to a grade range that 8a.nu doesn’t even register. So perhaps my happiest moment on the trip was in Donner Summit, on a day when Joe and I had gone out alone to try a couple of harder routes that weren’t being filmed. I approached a classic 5.13a in the area called Warp Factor, the humble beginning of Joe’s monster project. The tricky finish had foiled many possible ascents, and I hoped I could pull it off before heading home to start a “real” job. I managed to do the route that day. I told Brian he had to make a side note under all the moderates that I do in the film -- that I actually climbed a 5.13 on the trip. So if he forgets, that’s my little bit of spray.

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