Cathedral Peak

Cathedral Peak, a Santa Barbara Epic

By Laura Bylund
Photos by Kevin Steele

The Monkey's Tooth, The Fang, Pinnacle Peak

Call it what you will, Cathedral Peak is the most prominent sand- colored outcropping in the hills, the undisputed king of the Santa Barbara front country.

When I moved here six years ago, I remember taking the first look at the mountains of my new home, and the peak's tooth-like rock face was the first thing to jump out at me.

Intrigued, I read about it in an online hiking guide and took the trail up from Tunnel Road. After almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain in two miles and boulder hopping along the summit ridge, I reached... Arlington Peak. Cathedral Peak, I learned, is in the middle of a no- man's land to which no trail specifically leads. To reach its reclusive summit would require another mile of hiking and more third class climbing. I decided to turn back.

The next time I got close was while passing below it on the Jesusita Trail on the way to Inspiration Point, where it seemed to taunt me from above. Not long after, I gazed upon its back from the La Cumbre Peak lookout, visually trying to decipher a "trail" that would connect me to it. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to me to wonder if there were any good climbs on it or not. Likely this was because of the hellishness of the approach. The thought of hiking that terrain with a rope and another 10 pounds of gear was a turn off. Plus, the latest guidebook only dissuaded me further, in one short paragraph dismissing Cathedral Peak as "unfortunately low angle." My main interest at that point was merely getting to it.

Still, I was delighted to move into a house that had a beautiful, clear view of the peak from the front yard. In a way, it allowed me to pay homage to it on a daily basis. But it was a half-hearted sort of worship. I knew I hadn't devoted myself entirely. Anytime I caught a glimpse of the mountains, the pinnacle leered, silently challenging me to the climb I'd been avoiding. Even if the rock wasn't that great, I needed to get up there. Yet, for a variety of reasons, I put if off. I feared the worst. Had Santa Barbara's over-bolted, belay- from-your-car sport climbing made me lazy? Then, a simple and emphatic email from a climbing friend came across the transom. It said: "Go do this climb!"

Getting There

"There aren't too many climbs in Santa Barbara where you draw first blood on the approach," said Jeff Mahoney, my partner for my first climb on The Tooth.

Jeff is a seasoned alpinist and hiker. We did the East Buttress of Mount Whitney a few months prior and half of the time I could barely keep up with him. If he finds the approach to Cathedral Peak even a smidge less than easy, you know it's hard. Long and supremely arduous, the approach is a real commitment, a task likened to heartier traditional climbs. Forty-five minutes of plunging down to the valley ridge from La Cumbre Peak on rocky terrain, dodging healthy young yuccas strong enough to pierce your shinbones, wading through waist-high reed grass, burrowing in and out of sumac and toyon and then steeply back up to reach the rear of the summit. What's more, the climbs start at the bottom of the peak, so it's another yucca-infused lurch to the base. There's no sugarcoating it — the hike sucks.

The Climb

Cathedral Peak is a much bigger rock formation than you'd expect to find in Santa Barbara. Sure, it towers over us from its perch on the vegetated hillside, but you'll never know the glory and grandeur of its face until you're up close and personal.

We were going to climb its highest praised route, the South Face. Though this climb starts on a lie-back crack further up and to the right, we decided to rack up in the huge cave at the base. In addition to the fact that caves are just cool to hang out in, I wanted to observe where history had taken place almost 50 years ago when Herbert Rickert connected a series of caves to the top and accomplished the very first ascent of the monolith.

We sorted our gear and then scurried out of the cave and up to the crack, where I conformed my body into the "lie back" position and went for it. After 75 feet of relatively well-protected climbing, I came to the first belay and found two sun-bleached slings lobbed around a fairly sturdy chockstone. Some gnarly mountain rodent had chewed through half of one of them. I used my own sling and plugged a spring-loaded camming device in a shallow crack above. The sandstone was soft and crumbly. "On belay!" I shouted.

Jeff came up past me, took some gear off my harness and continued on. After about 20 feet, he knocked on the roof of the rock flake he'd been climbing to check for a solid gear placement. "I can feel that from down here," I yelled from the belay, the rock vibrating beneath me. "This one's just for psychological protection," he replied. Indeed it was. Jeff pulled through the section without a hitch, but upon later inspection it was confirmed that the piece would not have held much of a fall.

The face above opened to a lovely sequence of moves: a two-step traverse to a solid horizontal crack, wrap around bulging corner and follow a line straight up to the belay into yet another large cave. Of course a solid traditional pitch is never without further impediments: "I knew I should've brought the weedwhacker," Jeff said, as he maneuvered through a series of cracks that thrust dry foliage into his path.

But, in the end, these obstacles only enhanced the classic feel of the climb, and I had to glance around a few times to remind myself I was still in Santa Barbara. How unbelievable it was to be in that setting with the harbor-to-campus stretch and never-failing view of Santa Cruz Island at my back. By the time we topped out, the sundowners were blowing full force, adding to the sense of exposure. It was getting dark and we were happy to get off the summit.

Mission Accomplished

My first time scaling Cathedral Peak became a uniquely epic adventure, albeit a small one. That is the true appeal of it I guess. While the beauty and low-maintenance nature of the front country attracts sport climbers and recreational hikers, Cathedral Peak stands apart as commander of the land; unwelcoming, yet revered and sought after. It weeds out the unmotivated and turns its back on the weak.

If you decide to pursue this stone classic and at the end of the day are still disappointed by the loose rock, the bushwhacking and the "unfortunately low angle" climbing, then, if nothing else, be content with being able to say that you've been there. Cathedral Peak is as hardcore as Santa Barbara gets. BE

If You Go

I'm not going to specifically explain how to get there. If you're a hearty enough adventurer, something tells me you'll find it. Santa Barbara's original rock climbing guidebook provides the best direction I've read: "If you lose the trail, keep bushwhacking until you reach a rock headwall and the summit of Cathedral Peak."

If you go, be wise in planning for at least a half day of hiking and climbing. Wear good shoes and socks, bring plenty of water, leave at a decent time and bring a first aid kit and a headlamp (just in case). If you forget anything back at the car, consider it left behind.

Be warned, too, that you will not find a single bolt on this crag, which is a completely refreshing break from the excessively (and sketchily) bolted climbs you see closer to the roads. Cathedral Peak is a BYOG party — Bring Your Own Gear — a couple of pieces to place into cracks and fissures, a few slings for key chockstones and manzanita trunks, and you're good to ghost all three pitches. — LB

Sky's the Limit

The Sky's the Limit by Josh Mulcoy

Story & Photos by Chris Burkard

Possibly one of the most talented and well-rounded watermen ever to come out of Santa Cruz, 35-year-old Josh Mulcoy has humbly made a name for himself in not only the surf world but the kite world, as well.

BE: So, Josh besides the fact that you get to surf all spring when it's blown out, what are the advantages of kiting to your surfing?
JM: The main advantage is that I'm on a surfboard everyday. I get way more water time and a lot more waves to ride. But really, both sports complement each other. Kiting allows me to do things that aren't possible on a surfboard. I can get much looser. At the same time since I'm not using straps and I use the same board I surf with it really helps me improve my surfing while I kite.

BE: At what age did you start surfing? Did kiting start when you were young or did it come later?
JM: I started surfing at 10 years old with my dad, Harbor Bill. Kiting came way later in life.

BE: Balancing a career as a professional surfer and kiter can be challenging. How do you do it?
JM: It does get complicated when there a two trips at the same time for kiting and surfing. Sometimes there just isn't enough time to do both. I mainly try to focus on kiting in spring and summer and on surfing during winter and fall.

BE: Speaking of travel, I understand that this year you have made numerous surf trips as well as a few kiting trips. Has any one place really stood out?
JM: Peru was really good for both sports. I went there just a few months ago. You could go surf and then as soon as the wind turned you could just grab your kite and go. It was the perfect place to be a surfer and a kiter.

BE: Do you think traveling has made you a more well-rounded surfer? Kiter?
JM: Definitely. Traveling and riding new waves and in different wind conditions challenges you. It makes me more motivated. I think staying at home makes me stagnant. Plus, traveling has really opened my eyes to new experiences and new ways of thinking. I feel really lucky to have a job that allows me to travel as much as I do.

BE: Since it's such a young sport do you think there's a lot of room for progression in kiting? If so, where do you see it going?
JM: Kiting is following the same progression as surfing. People use to ride wakeboards in the surf. Now, they're riding normal surfboards and some people aren't even using straps. The way I see it the sport is turning into surfing only with more options. The future I think will be people trying to ride waves just like surfers.

BE: What about the sport of surfing, it seems to be progressing all the time?
JM: People just keep getting better. It's amazing how good some of the kids some of the kids how good are at such an early age.

BE: Coming from Santa Cruz, I'm surprised you aren't more of the competitive type. Do you compete in any contests during the year?
JM: I have never been a very competitive surfer because I have always been more focused on traveling and shooting photos. Contests haven't ever really been my thing. The only two I do during the year are the Vans' contest at Huntington Pier and the Coldwater Classic in Santa Cruz.

BE: What other surfers or kiters inspire you? And do any of them influence your style?
JM: There are so many good people in both sports, but there really isn't a certain person who inspires me. I just like to watch people that have good style and know how to ride waves well. Also, people who really love their sport and are super psyched to do them, they inspire me as well.

BE: I understand that you ride for Surftech and that you recently got your own model. Is there anything special about the design?
JM: My board is the new TL2 Technology. I've had it for the last five months and have kited and surfed on it the whole time. It's been all over the world with me. Usually I break boards kiting but this design is super strong mostly due to Stretch's (shaper William "Stretch" Riedel's) epoxy design. I have ridden other shapes with various fins and tail designs but the board I am on now is the best I have ever ridden.

BE: What are the advantages of using the same board for surfing and kiting?
JM: The advantage is I get my board so dialed in that whatever sport I do I have the board really figured out. I feel very lucky to have a board that works so well for both sports.

BE: In addition to Surftech, you recently signed a surfing sponsorship with Fox Surf. What other sponsors have helped you make a career out of both of these sports?
JM: This last year I've been riding for FlexiFoil Kites, Kaenon Glasses, Vans Shoes, Stretch Surfboards, and Ocean/Earth bags and leashes. I have been super stoked on the support from my sponsors. They've kept my career going.

BE: Josh thanks for the interview, any last thoughts?
JM: Do what you love and good things will come to you. BE

Call of the Sea

Call of the Sea

I sat on a beach with five of my students waiting to get taken to Nusa Penida, a small island off the coast of Bali. We'd been waiting there for hours, enduring the abuses of a torrential rainstorm, one of many that had been pounding the island for the last three days. I was getting anxious, as this was my last chance to certify my students before they had to go home. I wanted badly to see them succeed. But more urgently I needed to complete this course because I was in desperate need of money. During my first weekend in the country all of my cash had been stolen. My job as a scuba diving instructor had kept me housed and fed and, hopefully, with today's pay I'll also have money to live.

During the first two months there were barely any students because of the rainy season. I was living on less than $5 a day and didn't want to do that anymore.

More time passed, however, and the Indonesian boatmen who for the last few hours had been twiddling their thumbs and passing nervous looks between us and the storm looming off the coast, still made no effort toward a launch. I consulted my students and we all decided that we were already wet and that the rain would not stop us from enjoying a good day of diving. I approached the boatmen.

"We are ready," I said. "Can we go, now?"

The Indonesians looked at one another yet again, conversed quietly for a moment, and then nodded their heads.

"Bagus," I said, and we began loading the tanks and gear into our outrigger.

I'd been to Nusa Penida two times before, but had never led a dive there. It's known for some of the best diving in the region and also for its tricky and sometimes dangerous circle currents. I'd been certified as a dive instructor just two months earlier, but I was confident that I could handle anything. As the outrigger knifed into the sea, I was excited and nervous at the same time.

Not far from shore, the storm softened and we felt encouraged. But then a few minutes later the sky unloaded. Sheets of rain came down sideways. The outrigger rose and plunged precipitously in the seven to 10 foot swells. We had no compass or GPS, and our bilge pump consisted of a pair of plastic containers. Waves crashed over the bow and I noticed that my three Indonesian crewmen had put on their lifejackets, the only three lifejackets on board. I instructed everyone to put on their BCDs and to affix regulators to their tanks. Again, we were assaulted by a wave and the boat was deluged. We put the plastic containers to use, scooping and dumping furiously. I knew by now we were closer to Nusa Penida than to shore. There was no turning back. The excitement and nervousness I'd felt upon our launch had turned to unabashed fear. Yet, for the sake of the students I had to stay calm and collected. I had to pretend that this was all normal and in no time the sun would come out. But, the sky was dark. The rain was relentless. The ocean was in turmoil. I felt very small.

I was born and raised in inner city Chicago, about as far away from the sea as one could imagine. And, early on, I would have never guessed the path my life would take. After graduating from the University of Illinois with a degree in journalism, I worked and saved my money for a year and then bought a ticket to Australia. Two weeks into my trip there, I learned to scuba dive and sail, and the next thing I knew I was working as a boat hostess and deckhand in Australia's Whitsunday Islands. I didn't come home for four years.

But when I did, I found myself restless and unsatisfied. I'd felt the call of the sea and I knew I'd never be happy without it at the center of my life. After a few conflicted years back in the states, I'd had enough. So one day I went to the office, quit my job, sold my car and went back to the sea. Since then I have dived and lived in some of the most beautiful places in the world — Belize, Papua New Guinea, the Galapagos Islands, Singapore, Indonesia, and Costa Rica, among others. I've had countless adventures and that day in Bali is one experience I'll never forget.

In the end, the storm abated, the sun came out and we enjoyed three amazing dives on Nusa Penida. The trip back was calm and peaceful and as we neared the beach I noticed a large crowd of people gathered on the sand. I had no idea why. And as we got closer I realized that the crowd consisted of 100 or so employees from the dive company I worked for. Even Mr. Rommi, the owner, was there to meet us. I was baffled by the reception. When we beached I pulled aside my friend and fellow dive master, Made. "What's the big deal?" I asked.

"Annie," he paused and smiled at me, "we thought you sank. This morning we kept you waiting because Mr. Rommi had decided to cancel the trip, but he wanted to come and tell you personally. He wanted to tell you that it was too dangerous to go out because of the storm. But he was delayed because his car was caught on a flooded road."

It was a humbling moment and I learned lessons that day that have since helped me in every developing country in which I've worked with local crews. For starters, always respect the local captain. He's spent his life on the water you'll be diving. He knows its dangers and its secrets. His call is final.

But even more importantly I learned that you should never, ever ask him a yes or no question unless you want the answer to be yes. For fear of offending you, many cultures won't say no. It would be disrespectful to the guest and bring shame upon the person being asked. I know this now. When I asked that the Indonesian boatmen take us out on that stormy, rain-soaked day, they had no choice but to abide. They didn't want to lose face. I was lucky not to lose lives. BE

Annie Crawley - Producer, photographer, filmmaker, writer, editor, narrator, diving instructor, boat captain, world traveler, educator, Annie does it all. She's the author of the Ocean Life A-Z book and DVD, and the series, "What makes a Fish a Fish," "Who Lives in the Sea" and "Dive Into Diversity," which are all part of her trademarked "Dive into Your Imagination" series for kids, featuring spectacular underwater footage from her travels. You can find Annie's books and DVD's at www.diveintoyourimagination.com and www.anniecrawley.com/dvd_books/index.htm

Annie will be joining the BlueEdge team as a regular contributor.

Summer Fun

Summer Fun at Land's End

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Story and photos by David Pu'u
[men·tor n]
Somebody, usually older and more experienced, who provides advice and support to, and watches over and fosters the progress of, a younger, less experienced person.
(Encarta World English Dictionary)

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Centuries ago the Polynesians established a custom that requires more experienced surfers to mentor the younger generation. It has since become a tradition in our sport. During a recent photo trip to Cabo San Lucas, I got to watch this honorable tradition unfold firsthand as veteran professional surfer, model, athlete, et al, Mary Osborne lent her considerable knowledge and experience to up-and-coming surf star, 12-year-old Lakey Peterson.

As our group, which also included Lakey's uber-talented swimmer mom, Sue, respected waterman Tim Corliss and designer Donna Von Hoesslin of the fashion accessories company Betty Belts, left the grey placid waters of our fog bound Santa Barbara coast, the mission was pretty clear: We wanted to find some sun, surf, have fun, build some pretty pictures and, most importantly, show Lakey what it takes to become a professional athlete.

Cabo can be many things, ranging from Spring Break hedonistic party town to a quaint authentic Mexican experience to anything in between. One simply has to choose the correct venue and people to hang with to moderate the experience. For us, the historic old town of San Jose Del Cabo and an old hotel, which sits on the road to the East Cape, are always favorites due to their wonderful old Mexico architecture, pastel colors and warm ambience. The hotel always lets me use it as a private set when I come down to work there. It's the perfect backdrop. With each glimpse through the lens, one sees and feels the genuine textures of Mexico.

As for people, we would hang with the locals and a rather infamous American expatriate named Jeff King, one of the original surf pioneers who has since become a player in the design and development of parts of Cabo. After all, in order to truly experience a place it's best to immerse oneself in what a culture has to offer. And, one simply cannot experience Mexico by staying in an American-inspired condominium complex gated off from the community.

We walked into a blast of dry desert heat and proceeded down the stairs onto the tarmac and navigated Mexico Customs without incident. An hour later we were at our hotel. Door to door, our elapsed time had been about seven hours. Cabo is amazing in its proximity to Southern California and the vast change in climate and surf was exactly what we had hoped for. As the weather maps had indicated, a small southwest pulse sent 2- to 4-foot swells rolling through the azure waters. By evening we were out at Zippers with Mary chatting up the local boys and Lakey warily learning her way around the crowded peak.

The ensuing days saw us up at dawn and off into a variety of adventures. They ranged from dusty trips out to East Cape where we explored Jeff King's newest property acquisition and practiced the ins and outs of changing flat tires in sand. We swam and dove along the remote coast and had fun surfs in shoulder to head high, pretty blue waves.

In between our drives and surfs we managed to put together some vintage bathing suit work with Mary and Donna collaborating on some great 1940s-era designs, and Lakey getting her first taste of fashion work. The talented surf phenom is unique in that when one adds water to a shot, she literally comes alive.

It was interesting being a fly on the wall watching Lakey watch Mary going through the daily rituals and chores of being an athlete, surfer and model. One could see the wheels of comprehension turning as Lakey saw what it took to build a specific image. Which is sort of what Mary, Donna, Sue and I had hoped would occur. Lakey simply just "got it" and tolerated hair and makeup, modeling and direction with incredible humor and good nature.

Our time in Cabo came to an end too rapidly, and all too soon we were back aboard the Air Alaska flight, which would reinsert us into our daily rituals and seasonal grey, misty coastline. But we had the moments, memories and feel of friends and fun to ease the transition. Oh, and some awesome photos of Lakey, too. BE