The climb begins with an easy section, pulling on large holds through solid rock, leading to a comfortable resting spot using a double knee bar in a large pocket. Next, a slightly overhanging section presents a moderate challenge that drains your energy before the crux. A less-than-ideal small hold requires precise footwork before making a powerful move. Without the guidance of chalk marks, climbers might mistakenly attempt a desperate reach upwards towards a large undercling, a feature substantial enough to distract from the crucial small hold just above the lip. One further committing move leads to a hidden corner where a sneaky rest can be found. Without a tip from a local climber about this resting spot, this climb might have been abandoned long ago. Exiting the corner, the holds appear to face awkward directions, but clever knee bar techniques allow a reach to a large hold that initially seems too far away. Reaching this point? The climb is practically done.
When I started trying to complete Stoned Temple Pilot, progress felt far from smooth. On my first attempt, I successfully completed all the moves, but then consistently failed to repeat the final sequence. I anticipated improving with each try, but instead, each attempt seemed to erode my confidence. This experience highlighted a personal struggle: optimism. Climbing relentlessly brought this internal battle to the forefront. I was forced to confront a deep-seated lack of self-belief, regardless of achievements. Returning to this route repeatedly and performing worse with each attempt provided easy justification for the pessimistic voice in my head.
Two specific obstacles haunted me. First, every attempt to clip the rope from the undercling resulted in struggling to reach and becoming exhausted. Second, after my initial successful attempt, I had never reached the top of the route again. Each time I arrived at the final challenging section, even after resting in the corner, I couldn’t recall the sequence I had used before. I would experiment with different movements, hanging from the quickdraw repeatedly, before eventually giving up and lowering down. Leaving aside successful links through sections, how could I bring optimism to this climb when I couldn’t even clip the crucial point or finish the route? This feeling of being stuck, experiencing what felt like “Low Learning,” was incredibly frustrating.
Then, in June 2022, I had a breakthrough: I discovered the intricate connection between embracing optimism and releasing expectations. My friend Mike, and Allyssa, whom I had just met, joined me at Prudential Wall. I had very low expectations for the session. I had already used aid to get through a difficult 11c climb, and my forearms felt completely fatigued. The previous day, I had attempted Stoned multiple times and was repeatedly stopped at the clipping point in the large undercling. I had been trying to reach high above my head to clip, leading to exhaustion. However, this day, with diminished expectations and a sense of just climbing for the sake of it, something shifted. The “low learning” plateau I felt I was experiencing began to dissipate as I focused less on outcome and more on the process.
