Something Worth Saving

About a month ago, I traveled up north for the weekend to Prescott, Arizona, to do some mellow outdoor rock climbing and less mellow (below-freezing) camping with my partner Bob. I needed to be up there on Sunday because I was slated to volunteer with the Arizona Mountaineering Club for their outdoor school focused on building anchors. Anchors are meant to attach a climbing rope (or a climber) to a rock surface during rock climbing. The climbing rope is used as the climber’s lifeline, so learning how to ensure its safe placement and security is essential for climbing outdoors. 

A good climbing anchor follows the acronym ERNEST, which stands for Equalized, Redundant, No Extension, Solid and Timely. Equalized means all components of the anchor distribute the load equally, redundant means if one component fails there is a backup, no extension means there shouldn’t be any shock-loading at any point, solid means each component is strong enough to hold an impact on its own, and timely means it can be put together quickly if necessary.

I’ve volunteered as the Community Outreach Coordinator for a while with the Arizona Women’s Climbing Coalition, another local climbing organization. The organization aims to empower women and genderqueer people through rock climbing. My role is to help connect the organization and its members to different aspects of the rock climbing community, like other local climbing organizations, local businesses, and national non-profits and brands. One more recent example includes my efforts to join forces with the Arizona Mountaineering Club. We plan to partner on a stewardship project by providing funding and volunteers.

Earlier this year, we were preparing for an annual fundraising film festival, and I was contacting the owner of a local mountain guiding company for donations. Mac McCaleb runs Granite Mountain Guides, based in Prescott, Arizona, but also leads the local climbing organization Prescott Climbers Coalition (PCC). Mac generously donated to our cause, and through our interactions, I learned about the PCC’s role in protecting an area outside of Prescott that has many uses – including recreational rock climbing and climbing instruction. 

The campaign is called SaveSullivans and refers to Upper Sullivan’s Canyon, a significant land area because it is where the Verde River begins, right below the dam at Sullivan Lake. The Verde River is a tributary of the Salt River (which I wrote about here), and a portion of its 170 or so miles is protected through the National Wild and Scenic River program.

In the vicinity of Upper Sullivan’s Canyon, the area is designated as the Upper Verde River Conservation Opportunity Area (COA), by the Arizona Wildlife Conservation Strategy. The COA is a known Important Bird Area (IBA), comprising nearly 2000 acres of quality riparian habitat.

The land is also popular for outdoor recreation activities, including wildlife viewing, hiking, and – of course – rock climbing. My personal experience with rock climbing at Sullivan’s mainly includes its use as a natural “classroom” for rock climbing technique instruction through the Arizona Mountaineering Club (AMC). I have been involved with three courses there, once as a student and twice as an instructor, but the AMC has been using Sullivan’s to teach skills critical to the safe enjoyment of rock climbing in Arizona (and beyond) for decades. My last experience with the AMC occurred just one week following the celebration of the organization’s 60th “birthday.”

I’ve also tried climbing there – although the routes I attempted were quite tricky. The rock is something to be admired: it’s basalt, an extrusive igneous rock that is relatively young here – dated at only about 4.6 million years old! It is known as the Perkinsville Formation in this area. It consists of basalt flows from volcanic activity that followed the uplift of the Colorado Plateau – when deeply sourced material from a hot, upwelling mantle traveled upward through the crust, melting it and elevating it.


The physiographic region where Upper Sullivan’s Canyon is located is known as the “Transition Zone,” it denotes the boundary between the Colorado Plateau and the Basin and Range provinces. Therefore, geomorphic characteristics of both provinces are on display here, and the younger basaltic volcanism present in the area is likely due to late-stage, large-scale crustal extension associated with the formation of the Basin and Range. Much of the American Southwest was stretched about 12-8 million years ago, and subsequently faulted at a high angle, resulting in down-dropping basins filled with sediment adjacent to uplifted blocks forming the ranges.

What followed was a period that one of my colleagues likes to refer to as “Life After Faulting.” Landforms developed across the region as surface geomorphological features, like the Verde River, shaped the landscape. The section of the river that includes Upper Sullivan’s Canyon is a channel constricted by steep canyon walls due to the Verde River chewing downward into the uplifted landscape more recently (~2.5 million years ago).

Exposure of these basalt cliffs has led to the area’s popularity for rock climbing today. Still, ancient features like columnar jointing in the rocks (see featured image, image above, and image to the right), make that climbing experience inherently more interesting. This distinctive pattern of vertical hexagonal prisms is due to contraction during the cooling of the lava flows. Another distinctive feature is its vesicular texture, a “swiss cheese” pattern of void spaces that form due to gases escaping from solution in the lavas when it erupted. The bubbles never got the chance to pop before the lava solidified, trapping these little gas pockets for us to observe millions of years later.

The geology of the Upper Verde River in and around Upper Sullivan’s Canyon has been found to impact the diversity of regional flora. Distinct species of plants correspond to different rock types. Of course, flora – in turn – impact the faunal diversity of the area, which includes “strategy species” of amphibians, birds, mammals, reptiles, and fish. One of my most pleasant experiences at Sullivan’s Canyon was observing a pair of majestic barn owls that seemed to be looking for a meal, perhaps rodents that indeed feed on the diverse vegetation there.

Beyond the ecological significance of Sullivan’s Canyon as a critical natural resource is its cultural and historical importance. Humans have found refuge here for a long time – as evidenced by petroglyphs and historical agricultural structures, including a few barns and a bunkhouse. I’ve only seen pictures of the petroglyphs, but I hope to learn more about them and find them on my next visit.



The SaveSullivans campaign is a worthy one. To preserve this critical natural resource – the “Gateway to the Upper Verde River” – is to ensure a flourishing ecosystem and secure the area for future generations. It is a place that combines the liberating power of nature and an intentional practice of keeping users educated and informed.

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Under Pressure

Last month, I spent a few days in New England. There’s something extraordinary about Fall in a place with four seasons – shortly after I returned to central Arizona, it finally dropped below triple digits!

I flew into Boston and spent a night in Cambridge because I was visiting with a friend from my teenage years/early adulthood who has been living there for a while now. I remember Katrina always wanted to end up in Boston, and I’m happy for her now that she’s successfully built a life there. We spent the evening near the MIT campus, stopping for ice cream at Toscanini’s before dinner because, according to Katrina, “Bostonians love their ice cream and have been reported to consume more of it per capita (especially in winter) than any other place in the United States”. Katrina ordered the goat cheese, honey, and pecan variety, which sounded really good, so I followed her lead. Delicious!

We walked around Cambridge, and Katrina shared facts about the local architecture and pointed out details I wouldn’t have otherwise noted. We walked around looking for a place to eat and landed at an all-you-can-eat hot pot establishment. It was very good, and we were very full. The next day, we walked over the bridge from Cambridge, and I ended up working remotely from a coffee shop on the Berklee College of Music campus – Boston has its share of higher education institutions, no doubt!

Some friends were joining me for the weekend in New Hampshire, the real purpose of the trip out East. We were to attend a rock climbing festival for women and genderqueer people called Flash Foxy Trad Fest in North Conway. We drove out to New Hampshire together and were to host a climbing meetup for the festival, but it had rained heavily the evening prior, and the rock was quite wet – too slippery for climbing on. Therefore, we decided to hike a short trail called Black Cap, and we saw a BLACK-CAPPED chickadee bathing in a puddle left from the previous night’s rain. 

Our plan for the following day was to spend the day doing something called sport climbing (funny, because the festival is called “Trad Fest”, which is a different style of climbing). In sport climbing, a leader uses fixed hardware in the rock to run a rope up the wall and protect other “followers” who wish to climb the same route. Diedre was the leader for all of the routes we climbed that day – an amazing feat and a serious demonstration of skill and courage.

We did several easier routes that day and one more moderate route – not that climbing grades (which denote relative difficulty) are important, or even objective. The “easier” routes were actually a good level of difficulty for me but the “harder” route was a little to much for me in my current state. I decided to bail prior to completing it because I had already made it past the crux – or hardest part of the climb – and I was so exhausted both mentally and physically. I knew it’d be better for my general well being to be able to put myself on more horizontally oriented ground.

I took a much needed break, talked with my mother <3, and enjoyed a short nap. I returned to the crag and finished the climbing day with an easy – but really fun – route called “Shealyn’s Way”. It features a lot of different climbing styles and the route is relatively long for a single pitch (as far as one can go with a 60 meter long climbing rope). I felt all of the uncertainty that I had built up within me from the more difficult climb completely wash away.

The rock we were climbing is called schist. It’s a rock that has been “metamorphosed” under elevated temperatures and pressures which causes changes to it’s crystalline structure. The minerals in the rock orient themselves as a response to the stress that is applied to them and you end up with a rock that records this story of undergoing change under pressure. It’s like when you push down on a ball of play-dough and it flattens into a new shape in response to the applied force.

Metamorphic rocks have always been my favorite of the three rock types (igneous, metamorphic and sedimentary). I think it’s because these rocks record their history of undergoing stressful situations. These “situations” often involve great forces and large-scale dynamism that for me is awe-inspiring and exciting to attempt to comprehend. That storied history literally changes them and that’s what – in my opinion, anyway – makes them beautiful and interesting.

So when I have a tough time climbing a hard route or when I doubt my ability to accomplish hard things, I remember that personal challenges transform me into something also more beautiful and interesting.