Trident du Tacul Highline in Chamonix

One of the most challenging highline projects, and possibly the most beautiful highline I have ever set foot on. Immediately after the Girls Only Festival, I traveled to Berlin to submit a visa application, then picked up a rental car, drove back to Ostrov to fetch equipment, and subsequently drove directly to Chamonix to take a lift to 4000m. Along with Heather from One World Media, we camped on a glacier for a night, and I ascended 200+ meters two days in a row to give the beautiful 90m line a try. I was unable to send, but the experience was incredible. We de-rigged on my second day there, to my dismay. I hope to repeat this project in my lifetime, with more time. It was powerful and awe-inspiring! Thanks to the whole team for making it happen!

NEW female world record in highlining

Being on the central coast of California is beautiful, and the perks are definitely the array of activities. I am learning to surf, I am surrounded by beauty, and I can climb and slackline. The only disadvantage is the lack of huge, high gaps. Once your highline best reaches the triple digits, it becomes harder and harder to beat. For two years I was dreaming of walking 100m (330ft) on a highline. The difficulty changes exponentially, and though I love walking all lines, I had been missing a challenge for over a year. Finally, I set out on a road trip in search of an ass-kicking.

I was not confident in my ability to walk such a beastly line, though two years prior I managed to cross a 96.5 meter (315ft) highline in Czech Republic. My training regimen was non existent, and my 985ft piece of vectran was still a virgin. Sometimes, no matter how much we love a specific activity, other parts of life take priority and we cannot push ourselves as hard as we would like. I have no regrets for this different focus (that of relationships, being stationary, stability, surfing and gardening) however I craved a big highline and had long forgotten what it was like to fail miserably. I rousted some friends from Southern California to go on the journey with me, Ray Diaz and J.R. Racine. I was so glad they were stoked for the adventure. I explained my purpose and they were still game even if a line that size was an unlikely send for them. We set out east towards Moab, hoping the desert was not too hot.

Moab in Spring is something to behold. The red Martian landscape is balanced by shades of green in the trees, the grass and the shrubs. I love that time of year there. The river snakes through the town, bordered by lively vegetation. Upon arrival we were welcomed at the Monkey Den, where friends Brent, Scotty and Canyon live. To my delight, baby raccoons were a temporary part of the family, and feeding them became a daily routine.

Upon arrival in Moab, the clouds rolled in almost immediately, and it was clear we would do something close to town the first days to avoid a muddy mess in the desert. Fortunately Scotty was free, and showed us the fun and easy Left Hand canyon midline. We hiked out the winding path while dark clouds loomed overhead. We noticed a large amount of people hiking the opposite way; towards the parking lot, some high schoolers even said "Good Luck!" Taking no notice, Ray, Scotty, J.R. and myself kept walking towards our destination. 

As soon as we set our backpacks down a storm erupted above us, railing against the small overhangs we shuddered under. The raindrops were the size of peanuts and the water quickly carved it's own mini-canyons out of the soft red sand. We went ahead as planned as soon as the rain subsided, and we had a couple hours of midline walking. 

Sure enough, fat drops reappeared and we divided and conquered, Ray taking the static side of the line and JR, Scotty and I remaining on the pulley's side to de-tension. The fat raindrops didn't cease and soon enough the calm stream was a raging brown river. We ran with the gear to our overhangs and waited. Ray was on the other side of the river, huddling against the wall which gave little shelter against the downpour. As we watched numerous waterfalls appear on the walls around us, we began to realize that a flash flood could appear and we would be directly in it's path. Thats when we got creative. We walked upstream to where solid trees stood on the banks, and tossed our slackline across to ray, who fashioned it around the tree. It was a makeshift tyrollean traverse. We took turns crossing as the rain slowed and the water level decreased. 

The following project was one we were fortunate to come across. Scotty, Brian and Andy had been working on establishing new highlines on the Witch and the Warlock, two prominent towers in the desert that are not often climbed and had never been highlined. Andy and his partner had completed the sketchy climbing, leaving fixed ropes to ascend. All we had to do was rig the highlines! The access was easy in all wheel drive vehicles, and we managed to park about half a mile from the rim. As we stepped through the soft sand we were greeted by a beautiful, exposed and very high series of towers, eroded in a way that they sat like dominoes from the rim of the canyon. We got to work and set up the 170ft line that was easiest to access. The longer line from the middle tower to the farther one would come later, a beastly 230ft highline. 

I had the pleasure of walking simultaneously with Andy Lewis, and J.R. Racine snapped a rad photo which would later appear in Outside magazine. 

Following the Witch and the Warlock project we went off into the desert to get our asses kicked on a big highline. My goal in going to Moab was to project and train on a 100 meter long highline, and Terry Acomb had just the spot. He took me to twohundredsville, a cool bowl formation that hosted several 200 + feet highlines. Just a short hike around the rim and the bowl opened up to offer 300 ft + lines. I took out my laser and began searching for something over 330 feet that also boasted level anchors. After a few different tries, we agreed on the spot. A large, looming dead tree marked the anchor, and nearby I found the spine of some wild animal, it appeared to be a mountain lion with its narrow hips and long spinal column. I took it as a good omen.

The weather did us no favors as it heated up to the 90's (F). How fortunate I was to have good friends along for the journey, and to help me rig the new beast. JR, Ray and Daniel (a friend from Germany who was on a US tour) came out with me to the new line location, and we rigged until the sun went down. I slept in a hammock high above the cholla cactus, and the following day I procrastinated all morning until the temperature was hot enough to fry an egg on a rock. 

The line beckoned. I finally mustered the courage and energy to give it a go. Standing up, all I felt under me was the static, hard sway of vectran--a material prized for it's light weight, yet it is difficult to walk. Falling and catching it was like being beaten by a broom stick. After a few tries my legs stung, and my arms ached from re-mounting the line each time. I hadn't gotten very far. 

The boys all gave the line a go with little success. Daniel managed to get out towards the middle, but we discussed tension and heat as potential factors in the difficulty. By midday the sun was so unbearable we all stripped down and wandered the desert in our underwear, searching for arrowheads. I found a few, and imagined the great Native hunters chasing rabbits to their demise, and the arrows that were left behind. Was it scorching back then? Or was this climate change? The dry heat and the red of the rocks entranced me, and my bare feet traced my path through the washes, disappearing over flat stones only to reappear in the next wash. Finally the sun lowered and I returned to my beastly project.

It could have been my 25th attempt of the day, at least. Somehow, I started walking and screaming "Come On!" and I didn't stop, I didn't give up from fatigue, when I misstepped I quivered and grimaced but managed to main equilibrium, finally walking off the other side. It was done. I had reached my goal of 100 meters (105 to be exact). Happiness from ones achievement is rarely a singular experience, and I could feel the congratulatory mood from my friends nearby. Without them, it wouldn't have been possible. Without so many teachers, friends and inspirations a long the way, it wouldn't have been possible. 

On a personal note, I knew I was capable of more. This was not my limit. If I could cross 350 feet in 92 degrees, then what could I do with normal temperatures and more time? 

That Slackline Girl

Thank you to Kletter Kiddies!


THAT SLACKLINE GIRL from kletterkiddies on Vimeo.

New Female Free Solo Highline Record

There is a nice line in Ostrov that was calling me to solo it. The first experience on this highline was Summer, 2012, when some Czech friends came and rigged it. At 28 meters, it was a couple meters longer than my longest solo, and this intimidated me. I on sighted it in an ankle leash, however it was a shakey walk on strange rigging, and it left me less than confident.

The next time it was rigged I did not even walk it in an ankle leash; I was scared enough in a swami and listened to my intuition to wait a bit longer. The line is called 28 Hertz, walked first by Kwjet (from my somewhereelseland team) when we rigged it's longer neighbor, Electro Boogie (36 meters). It is inside a kind of cove of sandstone towers, and therefore feels protected, yet it does not lack in exposure. In the middle of the line you are very aware of the drop beneath you, and you feel the whole valley on the side sucking at your being. The line is beautiful. I think at it's highest point it is 30 meters, but I need to laser this to be sure.

Being a highline free soloist you meet many different reactions to taking this "risk." It is continually a controversial topic in the slackine realm, despite the fact that climbers have been soloing for ages and are for the most part respected as masters of their craft. I consider myself an ethical free soloist for the most part, I am not reckless or soloing for attention, it is a personal experience and while I never want to "subject" someone to witnessing me leash-less, in some cases you feel the moment the solo beckons and you must answer at that moment. I suppose soloing is very much about living in the moment, you must be completely aware of every atom in your physical being, aware of every reaction your body makes to the situation. For me, it is the purest form of highlining. Something that is special for me is that free solo is teaching me how to differentiate between fear and intuition. I have only backed off of one or two solo's before, and there is no regret. I want to clearly see what I am capable of and not push myself to a point of danger, but learn how to control my fear to the point where I can progress without risk.

Soloing in Moab, photo Scott Rogers

I would never suggest free soloing to anyone. When I started highlining, free solo was so far out of the realm of possibility, I swore I would never embark on such a mission, but 5 months into my highline career I found myself walking leashless, and it opened a door for me which lead to a new form of human experience. I have created this catalyst for self understanding, and I hope I never injure or kill myself in the pursuit of ultimate mind control; however I accept the risk.

What many people fail to remember is just how dangerous most "normal" things in life are. How many people are in car accidents? How many people crash on their bicycles, or catch the flu? What about cancer? There are a million things that can kill us in this world, and most are totally out of our control. Free solo is totally in my control. Yes, it is a selfish pursuit, for if something was to happen I will be inflicting grief on those who care about me, and yet I will be dying for something I love and find worth in, so it will not be a mistake. I am unattached now, so this is the time for me to pursue such things. I believe that when you have a family your responsibility is much greater, but until that point I will continue seeking the meditative, mind and body control that soloing is a vessel for. I should probably write a will about all my gear, huh?

I am on a tangent---back to the point of the post!
During the Girls Only Slackline Festival this year (the third edition!) I rigged a 15 meter long highline for the beginners, which was good solo preparation. I felt entirely calm and unaffected by going without security.

Photo by Kletter Kiddies

Behind this line was the 28 Hertz, my free solo project. With threaded tubular and polyester backup and perfect tension, I had the feeling that it would be the weekend. The atmosphere was perfect---girls everywhere, trying hard and overcoming their fears, while trusted photographers were there to document the festival. I was not worried about lack of documentation as there were about 6 girls around to witness anyways! I asked them first, and said if anyone was uncomfortable to watch a free solo to please leave temporarily. After multiple ankle leash crossings, I felt that I knew the movement of the line well enough.

Photo Kletter Kiddies

I trusted the rigging, and the clouds covering the sun gave for the perfect lighting. I took the leash once more to the far tower, untied the bowline from my ankle and scooted out. Immediately my body was tense, and though my mind felt strong some inner conscience was very aware I was in "danger." Deep breaths, the right songs playing on my mp3 player, and I was standing up from the chongo, taking my first step across the 28 meter (92 feet) highline. My muscles were vibrating, a shake that transferred to the line to create a fast wobble. I was shouting at myself like on a long highine, "Come on! Come on Faith! Keep walking!"

Photo by Fly

I could see a few girls on the other anchor staring at me, huddled around the tower top not moving an inch. I felt the silence despite the music in my ears. I thought about how everyone there wanted me to make it to the other side, and this thought was uplifting. My mind passed between thoughts of nothing and thoughts of what I was doing. The middle of the line was a challenge, it shook but I kept my back straight and remembered the technique I had spent 3 years developing. It seemed endless! Stepping onto the other rock I was smiling, letting out the breath of fear from my lungs, vitality! This was not the last free solo, but it was an important one---it made me realize that I don't need complete stillness and calm to stay in control, I only have to keep walking through the vibration of fear in my body.

Photo by Fly

The leash was on the other side, so after a sip of water and a quick rest, I soloed back to get it.

Photo by Kletter Kiddies

After walking the line full man free solo, it seemed silly to tie an ankle leash on, so I removed it from the line and carried it around my torso, free soloing for a third time. The nervous vibration remained for every walk, but was less on the last one. I felt so happy. Endorphins? Is it all completely scientific and boring? Or is there something spiritual in that experience---of standing in space, balancing, using every iota of my being to LIVE?!

Talking about the feeling. Photo by Kletter Kiddies

In relation to this post I have added my TED talk about Fear:

                                             

Perks of being an ugly Rigger...

Last week I spent 6 days in Chamonix, France in the Alps. I joined up with Tancrede and Julien from the Skyliners team as well as Ingrid, to shoot an upcoming Asus commercial. Julien and Ingrid were the actors, and Tancrede and I were responsible for rigging and testing the lines. It was quite a relief to not be in front of the cameras, but the job was hard work nevertheless. The first day we slept in the lift station, waking up before sunrise in order to install 2 highlines near the lift station deck. The lines were unspectacular due to the proximity of the lift deck, one was hardly a highline being about 7 meters long and 5 meters high, however the other (see photos below) had a spectacular backdrop and in fact was a highline, about 18-20 meters long. One direction was to a sharp spire, and was quite exposed. It was a joy to walk. A medic on the scene was kind enough to snap a couple photos before the pretty people started acting ;) Finally after a week there we rigged 2 highlines by the lift station, a slackline, a beautiful alpine lake waterline on Lac Bleu, and a real proper mountain highline which involved a 3 hour hike over a glacier, sketchy loose rock climbing with a backpack, rigging in fog and cold, and then helicopter shots. It was a good week. 

Getting the first ascent of "For the Money and the Bitches Highline" OS FM FA.

California Coast, the best thing since sliced bread

Our trip in Joshua Tree was supposed to last for a week, then Roxanne, Matt and myself would drive back to Tuscon and Austin, and return to the daily grind of life; work. My budget was about as slim as an anorexic and Matt had school, so it was pretty certain we would stick to our plan, however good times and friendly persuasion can go a long way.



It started simply enough, we had formed some kind of awesome crew with Alisha, Andrew and Dave, three rad Californians who liked doing dirtbag things with us; climbing, highlining, camping, surfing, living the life straight cruising, one might say. Dave was back in LA, and I needed to stop in Redlands anyways, so after meeting up at the Desert Hot Springs Spa and having interesting conversations with old wrinkly spa-goers and crazy not-funny-slightly-racist comedians in the sauna, we headed for In-n-Out to gorge our shrunken stomachs on American cuisine in it's finest. We all felt good and refreshed, having our first showers in over a week plus belly's full of cardiac-arrest-causing burgers, so our spirits were high and prime for being convinced further adventures lay ahead.

Alisha's wallet had mysteriously disappeared, and we all tried to come up with a scapegoat from Joshua Tree, wondering which shady dirtbag would have the nerve to pull such a stunt. So, we agreed to follow them to LA and spend one night before we headed back to Austin. We all crashed at Dave's parents lovely home in Pasadena, and he took us out on the town to little tokyo where we sang our hearts out at a tiny karaoke bar, much to the dismay of the Japanese regulars who  could actually hold a note. The next day ensued with discussion of whether the Texas crew could follow Alisha and Andrew up the coast to find some more monkey adventures. Matt was down, he just wanted to surf. I was down, but my wallet was not; and Roxanne had just graduated so she probably would have driven to Canada if it was an option. We parted ways while I ran errands at 5.10 and Alisha and Andrew headed north. Our monkey instincts prevailed; we called them and got directions, and in the evening began our drive.

The sun set before we started along the coast, so we missed the views up until San Luis Obispo, where we crashed at Nathan Huerta's house, a fellow highliner. The backyard was a lovely comfortable patch of grass, and we utilized it well, sleeping late (accept for Matt who ended up with the sun on his face bright and early). The next day we continued north, with surfing and Big Sur in mind. It was my second time in San Luis Obispo, but the first time I could see it in daylight. It is a quaint sort of college town, with old houses and surrounding landscape beautifully laid out with rolling hills, farmland, big tree's and rocks to climb and highline on. We drove for hours, jamming to good tunes and soaking in the views.

They call that drive the most beautiful for a reason; breath taking is the least I could say. The ocean hangs left the entire way, with colorful foliage and landscape on the right.

We stopped at a beach famous for fat elephant seals; a tourist destination where the squirrels are as friendly as Jehovahs Witnesses on your doorstep. I could tell it worked, if you want to see squirrel obesity that is the place. Speaking of obesity, we walked from the parking lot to the boardwalk and watched as the fat seals lay in the sun, flipping sand on themselves, barely moving like fat piles of lard. Some males were fighting, and nearby a pack of seagulls hounded a seal who screamed at them and charged. I used to think seals were cute, but that scene just looked grotesque, and a little too human. It was cool though.

Finally we arrived in Big Sur. Now the coastline hugging the ocean was a series of huge hills and deep ravines, rolling and topped with forest. It was beautiful, landscape I had never seen.

We followed our friends up a winding road and stopped just in time to see the sun dip behind the horizon of the ocean, which looked endlessly dark and powerful from atop those hills.

Our night was windy but we managed to build a fire in a clearing which stayed mild. We took a long walk up the hill and back. Friends who came with us from San Luis Obispo cooked us delicious food, and we downed a bottle of alcohol-free tequila. You read that right. We slept among the leaves underneath branches and sky, and it was good sleep.

The next morning we packed up and headed out. We stopped later on at another beach called Pfiffer, one which is 'off limits' to tourists but beautiful nonetheless, with super secret ninja highline written all over it.

When we finally arrived in La Selva, we were all psyched for surfing and borrowed gear from Andrew, headed down to the beach and got in. I was thankful to borrow a wetsuit that fit, and for my first experience I can say - holy shit they are warm! Feet, hands and head might go numb, but my booty was cozy in that thing! I took out a longboard with no leash and no experience, paddled out and began my thrilling and abusive relationship with waves.

The Texas coast is like kindergarten compared to the California coast, and I was so psyched I lost track of time and how many smashes to the face I received from waves. Eventually Andrew came out and tried to help me, but after some time we saw a fin in a wave nearby. My experiences in the ocean have been mostly in the Gulf, so I had no clue what to think. Andrew suggested we get out. That was the fastest paddling I had done all day, and when I arrived back on sand he informed me it was only a dolphin. Idiot Faith! I could hardly balance on still ground, so I decided it was probably better to stop since I had been in the water for 2 hours and we had a week ahead of us. Roxanne would take the next morning shift with the board, so we spread out our camp, built a fire, roasted hot dogs and had a proper beach night.

The next days were spent surfing (or trying to) and checking out the bridge on the beach; a rusted out tressle begging for a highline.

Finally we devoted a day to rigging the first highline on La Selva Beach. We sorted out the highline gear we needed, then Andrew and I scaled the rusty old bridge (easy climbing besides the risk of tetnis) and began wrapping the beams with tree wear. I had a GoPro on to document the historical establishment, and things were going well until First Response showed up, a gung-ho blonde who decided shouting at us and telling us the police were coming was the appropriate way to behave. We tried to remain civil, but  I really do not understand why humans lose their humanity as soon as they begin a career of any authoritative position! She could have nicely asked us what we were doing, first of all, and then informed us that we were not allowed to, instead of acting crazy and angry from the get go. Alas, the life of a slackliner is filled with angry people with badges.

We stopped our process and came down, explained to her what we were doing, and that there were no signs stating anything related to trespassing. She flipped her mood 360 degrees and started acting chummy with us. Some lady had apparently called the Police and stated that "kids were climbing the bridge." Naturally the big boys rolled in with their SUV and thrust back shoulders, little did they know my GoPro was on the conversation the entire time. The chief was a polite asshole, asking ridiculous questions then putting me down when I tried to explain slacklining. He was on the swat team, he "plays with bombs for a living." So, at the end he told us that he could not tell us not to do the highline, but that we shouldn't try and do it again that day. Thanks for permission on camera, Mister Officer!

We returned the next time earlier in the day, with Eric Rasmussen to help rig and rage. He took the far side, and we scrambled up the bridge again with a plan. Our friends were the look outs, ready to alert us if they saw shady old women on the phone or the popo.

I was paranoid, but we managed to rig the line and Andrew took the first ascent, it was his home town after all. It was a beautiful spot; not only the post industrial look of the rusty beams but the ocean next to us, waves crashing, surfers ripping, and sky. Juxtaposed, they created a beautiful urban highline.

 Eric got on the line and raged, walking back and forth doing every trick out there, giving me plenty of time to run around the beach trying to snap as many memories as possible.

I knew I would solo the line before we rigged it, and after several walks in an ankle leash I felt ready. It was something around 60-70 feet long, and on type-18 and aeon backup it felt soft and dynamic. I soloed it, felt the power of the ocean, the atmosphere, the friends nearby and my own focus, and it was one of the most enjoyable solo's I've ever done. 

So, no cops, only sending, raging and beautiful weather and good people. What more could a highliner ask for?

A huge thanks to Dave, his parents, Nathan, his roommates, Andrew and his parents for hosting us, and to all the monkeys who made this trip so rad. See you guys next time!