What a year it has been since I've last written! With school, work, and the few small adventures I've been able to take over the last 8 months, I have not had much time to think! 

Last weekend I was fortunate enough to be able to head down to Seneca Rocks, West Virginia with the lovely Miss Kelly Gilsenan. We left Millersville about 2:30 on Thursday afternoon, headed south to Winchester, VA for dinner at an Italian restaurant, that I've dined at before. I was not thrilled with the pasta I had, but Kelly really enjoyed her meal. After passing the Wal-Mart on Virginia Route 50, we were in the country side, where we should remain for the next several days. 

Cruising through the beautiful mountain and valley terrain, I couldn't help but be astonished. The mid April sun setting just beyond the ridge just made this the place to be at that moment in time. Further on we travel, moving quickly down country roads into Monongahela National Forest. 

Just before 8 PM we arrived at Seneca Shadows campground. After checking in with the exceptionally friendly campground hosts Ted and Marilyn, we found our camp spot. We were fortunate enough to catch the last bit of sun on Seneca Rocks as we were hauling things from the car. After setting up the tent, we were fortunate enough to see a set of stars that in all my travels I have never seen. I was enamored by the dandruff on the the black robe of the evening sky.

Friday morning came to quick and after a small breakfast we head out. After choosing some objective climbs for the day, we headed across the river and up Roy Gap Road. After climbing up something less like a trail and more like a goat path, we arrived at the base of Candy Corner (5.6). 

Although I will never be a super hard climber, whenever going to a new area, I like to warm up on something I'm sure I won't spend my time falling up. Seneca was no exception, especially with it's reputation for sandbagged, old school ratings. We unpacked the gear, stretched and tied in. As the belay commands flew, I was off and climbing. Into the cracks, my gear fit perfectly. Although cold in the early morning shade, I was content as a snake in the sun. Upwards I climbed, to the first belay station. I yelled off belay to Kelly, and pulled the rope up. Soon enough, she was on belay and climbing.

As she reached the crux of the route, she got stuck. The major drop off to the left had her gripped. A bulge with little to hold did not help either. After a few minutes of fighting with herself to pull this bulge, she told me she couldn't do it. She asked to be lowered off. I couldn't say no. 

Set up in guide mode, I quickly locked off the belay device, swapped it over to a redirect and to the ground she was lowered. After setting a rap anchor from the bolts, I lowered off and pulled my gear, leaving only a runner, carabiner and rap ring at the anchor. Bummed that I had to leave some gear, I told the next guy on the route he could have it. Being the genuine person he was, as well as an instructor from Garret College, he said that he would remove it and return it. Karma was on my side this morning, and I would repay the karma later that afternoon. 

After resting for a while, we followed the instructors recommendation to try Skyline Traverse (5.3), which is also the finishing pitches of Candy Corner. This route can be moderately terrifying with a step out and over 100 feet of air. After racking up and deciding to carry an extra rope, we quickly moved to the first belay. After bring Kelly up, I quickly regained my gear and off I went. The infamous step out over the void was not remotely as scary as imagined, with good protection and fantastic holds. I moved upwards to the point where the 2nd belay should be, but after finding no thrilling gear placements, I opted to run the pitch out farther and belay from the top, only 70 feet father, 170 feet of my 230 foot rope. After topping out and setting an anchor, I hollered "Off Belay!"

As I tried to pull up rope, the belay seemed to still be on. Perhaps she didn't hear me? I never did hear a response, I thought to myself. Again, as loud as I can, I scream "Off Belay!", but still, to no avail. Not anticipating this, we had not worked out commands via rope tugs. After hauling up a bit more rope, I tied off to the anchor and went over to the edge to where Kelly may be able to hear me. 

In the tree, I noticed a purple sling with a small locking carabiner attached. "Booty!" I exclaim to myself, thinking of the pirate I'm not. The mountain gods have blessed me today. As I lean over the ledge, I yell "Off Belay", only to hear "Belay Off". After putting Kelly on belay, she quickly moves up and and through to the top. 

As she sits down on a rock on our porch overlooking the mountains, a man walks over, looks at the tree and sighs, It's gone". I ask him what's gone, with the response of "A purple runner and carabiner I had attached to that tree over there. I left it by accident." Perhaps the mountain gods had not shined on me as much as I thought. Karma demanded its tax, and it's favor was repaid. 

We coiled the ropes and tried to figure out the descent. Looking around, I found nothing. I yelled to a guy higher up the ridge and he said that we could just walk off. Down the ledge I walked, ending in a 20 foot block. Perhaps this is not a walk off. After returning to our eagle's eye perch, I found a monster tree with signs that people have rappelled from it before. Doubting that there would be more anchors further down, we tied the 2 ropes that we had together. We set up to rappel, and down I went. I had to deal with several large knots of rope, but made it to the ground in 1 long 220 foot rappel, with only 10 feet of rope left to spare. 

Kelly came down, and I  pulled the rope though, smoothly and without any big event. We packed up our things, and headed down to the truck. I wanted to check out the famous Gendarme climbing shop, named after the rock formation that tumbled from sky to earth in 1987. 

We walked inside, eying a medium height, middle age, bearded man and a younger employee, talking about the sport. After looking around for a bit, and feeling a bit lost for routes to do, I asked. With some great recommendations, and a suggestion of "Don't make me work this weekend" from our bearded friend, reminding me to use good sense and not get myself in a situation where I  needed rescue, we headed back to the campground to sort gear, enjoy dinner and relax by the fire.