JTree Januaries

jtree-jan001Last January, I visited Joshua Tree and lead my first trad routes. It was a harrowing experience—at least my first route was—despite the low grades. Throughout the year, I lead a few more routes including some multi-pitches on Tahquitz. It’s a new year, a new (exceptionally mild) winter, and the time had come to return to Joshua Tree.

I left the last trip jonesing to climb “The Eye” on Cyclops Rock. It’s rated in that low-grade zone where I feel comfortable and it looked really fun. It’s essentially a tall alcove that leads to a small tunnel near the summit of the rock around 100 feet above the ground.

I rolled into Joshua Tree Saturday morning with Travis and Moreno. We were lucky enough to find a campsite at HIdden Valley directly across the street from Cyclops Rock. The fates had spoken. We set up camp, Moreno packed eight days of food into his day-pack along with his video camera, Travis grabbed his GoPro mounted quadcopter, and we hiked over to the rock. I lead it without incident, belayed the guys up, and we got a little video during the prep. It was a good warm-up and ego boost. It was time to pick a new route. “Penelope’s Walk” just around the corner seemed like a good idea.

“Penelope’s Walk” is 5.5ish with some slab-climbing, a bit of traversing, a little cave, and a short crack leading to the 80 foot summit. It looked fairly easy from the ground.  I was surprised to find out how psychologically taxing it would be. Early on I noticed the rock was poor. I’ve climbed on worse choss (crumbly rock), but it was bad enough to make me question the reliability of some of my foot placements and a couple of my pro placements. Regardless, things were going well until I reached the traverse. I spent a large amount of time at this spot—climbing, down-climbing, weighing my options, looking for alternate routes (it’s where I’m perched in the first photo of the gallery). My dilemma was committing to one move roughly half-way across the traverse. The rock was poor and I couldn’t find any reliable foot placements I could trust to execute this one move linking both ends of the traverse. A fall would cause a pendulum swing possibly into a lower ledge. Chancing a fall was not an option. Thankfully, there were several rest spots nearby where I could cling to the wall comfortably and consider other options. After many retreats, I finally found a way to get me past that questionable spot. I climbed into the cave and rested for a bit. An older man had walked up earlier, stopped to watch, and chat with Travis. Thankfully, he would relay the small bit of reassurance I needed to top out on this route. Next to the cave is a thin crack that works left, then turns 90 degrees directly to the summit. It bulges out a bit, and looks quite intimidating. It was hard to protect, my last good piece was below in the cave, and a fall would have been ugly. The man on the ground assured me that it looked worse than it was, that as soon as I felt like I needed a hold, it would be there. I stood at the seam, placed a marginal cam primarily to appease me psychologically and committed. Hesitation would likely lead to a fall. Hesitation was not an option. I have rarely climbed a crack so smoothly and calmly. Although the crux of the route, I felt like I was dancing through it. My only option was to climb it well, that motivation made it so. I topped out, relief and satisfaction washed over me.

Moreno followed and cleaned the route, pulling onto the summit as the Sun set. It had not been the quick, easy route I suspected. Not because the climbing was hard, but because it was just intimidating enough at the right spots to make me doubt myself. I did feel that I had progressed as a trad leader, although. The year before, “False Layback” (my first) had terrified me. “Penelope’s Walk” had made me uncomfortable and a bit frightened at parts. It even had me consider bailing a few times, but I was never truly scared and I was confident in my abilities when it counted.

The next day I lead “The Eye” again, Travis shot some copter footage of it, and we gave him his turn on “Penelope’s Walk” by top-rope. Then, we climbed in the van and headed back West.

 

Dragging Feet Stop Dragging

For over three years, I have been dragging ass getting my portfolio and reels updated. Occasionally, I would get a request to see my reel and I would dread having to give the “sure, but it hasn’t been updated in three years” response. Now, I don’t have to anymore. I have not only updated my reels, but also completely redesigned the site and portfolio elements. See the new site at chinnystyle.com.

I also embedded my general and director reels in this post.

Into the 21st Century Teens

Four years of GoPro use have passed quickly. The image quality has improved dramatically (although the battery life has suffered) and I even got to strap it on a few radio-controlled helicopters this year. Above is my annual compilation of footage shot throughout the year with my tiny beaten and bruised GoPro 3 (and some of my friend’s GoPros also). This year I decided to take a different approach with the music selection by using a moody piece by First Aid Kit. Go buy their music.

Sugar Pi Fairy

I’ve been looking forward to sharing this. Earlier this year, my friend (and past documentary subject) John Brown recommended me for a Nerdist project. Danica McKellar (Winnie Cooper from The Wonder Years) was working on a math/comedy (mathedy?) series and needed someone to direct and post a short music video based around the mathematical constant pi. We shot all primary photography (Danica and ballerinas) in one day in June followed by a couple of short pick-up shoots throughout the summer to grab the various celebrity cameos. I handled all of the post: editing, color, compositing, animation, design, etc. As a sign of her appreciation, Danica brought me a homemade chocolate pecan pie afterwards. I’ve never had a client bake me a pastry before or deliver it to my somewhat secluded (by L.A. standards) residence. She is setting a high bar for all future clientele.

And, yes, she really did have the whole song memorized.

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The Other Side of the Ditch #6 (of 6)

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I joined the high school newspaper in my senior year for one reason—so I could have my own comic-strip. It was called Dweezlebwob 634 and featured talking cheese and a sentient severed finger, amongst other oddities. Despite this, the newspaper staff also saw fit to foolishly give me my own column, “The Other Side of the Ditch.” I squandered this honor by writing about ludicrous conspiracies and other facetious topics.

Below is the sixth installment—this was my favorite (although it is overly sentimental and heavy-handed and inundated with quotation marks). Even people that hated my column seemed to dig this one. It was my last story before graduating.

The Other Side of the Ditch
Number Six
5 May 1995

Just as summer must end and allow fall to kill what remains, so must I leave the banks upon the other side of this ditch and allow the entrance of its autumn.

Fewer than many have pondered what exactly lies on “the other side” and what exactly “the other side” is. Once when I was very small and on one of those journeys we find ourselves on when so young, I came upon a large chasm. It was the essence of this ditch we call life. All, as we know it, lies upon this side where we stand. Yet “the other side” was so vast, welcoming, and mysterious. This “ditch” was too large to cross and I sorrowfully left it, having not attempted to cross it.

Not so long ago I heard it calling to me in my dreams. I returned to it and the chasm had grown and all upon “the other side” had withered. Closing my eyes, I leapt and found myself on “The Other Side of the Ditch.” As I walked about I felt this presence. It teemed with life. It was more alive than anything that I have ever known. Its boundaries were only limited by the reaches of my imagination. Now that I had come, its withered land began to bloom once again. “The other side” is a parasite. It fed off me—fueling its magical land of imagination. Our relationship was symbiotic, for I learned and fed off it as well. I became the bridge which linked both sides of the “ditch.” I shared its wonders and lived happily as its host.

Alas, it could not last forever for the sands of time have pressed me. Time changes everything and I have grown. Now has come the time for me to leave “the other side” and return to the side that spawned me. We all must grow and leave our dearest things behind, for we must keep the cycle spinning. Perhaps, I am the one who has gained the most in our relationship, for “the other side” has shaped me. It will always be part of me, awaiting my return. Without me, “the other side” is dead. It cannot live alone. I shall go on to grow as “the other side” continues to slowly waste away. One day I shall return and it will still be waiting, my own little giving tree. I will be wiser and “the other side” will once again bloom and grow even more vast. For now, it must lie dead. Do not shed a tear. The summer always returns.

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Back in the Dumb(er) Days #2: Rocktastic Adventure

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A series of stories about those days when I was even dumber than I am now.

Back in the Dumb(er) Days #2: Rocktastic Adventure
Date: Spring 2000
Location: Lafayette, LA & Baton Rouge, LA
Age: 22

Rock bands are a staple of suburban teenage life. At some point, it seems like everyone was “in a band” even if that person had no musical prowess. I was one of those people. In the mid 90s, my friends John and Steve decided to start “the worst band in the world.” They dubbed it Sparkely Vagina and recruited me and several of our other friends as members. Most of us had no musical experience. Instead we focused our attention on outlandish nicknames and costumes. We became Merle Bacon, Zorphamackx, Fourchinnigan, M.C. Foreskin, Selloutagus Buzzbandophagus (or Selloutophagus Buzzbandagus), and Dix Biggzly. We made terrible absurdist movies on cheap camcorders. We occasionally “performed” shows at venues foolish enough to allow us.

Shortly after transitioning into college, the gag grew stale. I held on to the Fourchinnigan name as an alter-ego for my illustrations and videos, but ceased pretending I was part of a rock band. Others moved on to other things. Merle and Zorph decided to start a real band. Sparkely Vagina became Sparkely V and Snogger and Epod joined the force.

During my last semester in college, as part of a documentary course, I decided to make a documentary about the band. I followed them around on weekends for a couple of months with a huge Betacam and boom mic. Afterwards, I used the modest digital resources at the University and struggled to build a 30 minute cut. Digital post was still in its nascence and I barely knew what I was doing. In the end, I met the deadline and presented what was one of the more ambitious videos in the class. Although reality TV didn’t really exist yet, I apparently already suffered from the same character flaws that those producers do. I encouraged my friends to become caricatures of themselves and guided the edit in a more sensational (yet less accurate) way. There is definitely a lot of hamming for the camera.

Natural Waterpark

My favorite canyons are wet—preferably with flowing water. Throw in a variety of rock formations/obstacles, some slides, and a few interesting drops and I’m happy. I’ve run a fair number of canyons this year, but one that particularly stands out is Seven Teacups in Kernville, CA. It is a natural waterpark with no lines.