When I really got into climbing, I spent almost all of my time with various partners bouldering around the scrub desert hills of Santee just 20 minutes outside of San Diego where I was going to college. Those of you who have been to Santee would probably cringe at the things that we spent our time working on. Most of the routes ranged from 10 to 20 feet and consisted of desperate slab climbing on dime edges. Only a few climbs could be called overhanging at Santee, although by Texas standards people would probably still call them slabs. It was while we whittled away our time at Santee and Mt. Woodson (basically top-roping small boulders) that we kept hearing musings of beautiful steep granite boulders in the high desert near Bishop. Mind you, coming from San Diego, our idea of what steep meant was quite skewed toward the slabby side of things. Not too long after this, Climbing wrote an article about bouldering on the east side of the Sierras and our fates were sealed. Among the many places that were mentioned, we got our first sight of the stately granite boulders of the Buttermilks. It didn't take long before I and my climbing partner at the time - an wire-thin 16-year-old named Terry Parish who had taken to climbing like a greyhound to running - got the bug to go on our first purely bouldering trip. We bought the only guidebook at the time, called "Climbing on the East Side of the Sierras" (or something close to that), and quickly drove up to Bishop - the whole while poring over the pointalistic-style drawings of the Buttermilks and imagining things to come.
When we arrived at Bishop, we didn't go into town but took a quick left on Highway 168 and made a bee-line for the Buttermilks Road turn-off about 8 miles out of Bishop and at about 5000 to 6000 feet elevation. After about three miles of joint-rattling, washboard dirt roads we rounded a corner and got our first gander at the Buttermilks. Pretty much the first boulders you see are the spectacular Peabody Boulders - some of the largest in the area. We ditched the car by the side of the road, grabbed our shoes and chalkbags and bolted for the rock.
It is hard to describe the beauty and grandeur of this place. The boulders are scattered across the golden, rocky desert hillside as if an artist had carefully planned each placement. Each boulder has a wonderfully life-like feel in its gracefully rounded shapes weathered by wind, rain, and snow. All types of quality routes, from delicate slab problems to steep overhangs, swell out of the granite pea-gravel covering every inch of the ground. In the background are high Sierra peaks capped in snow. In contrast to the heat of Bishop, the weather there is usually mild with a slight breeze. There are few established trails at the Buttermilks and plenty of cactus and waist-high scrubby bushes that force you to move like a whirling dervish to avoid the gnarly, hard branches that reach out and scratch you as you go by.
Running up from the road, we came upon the steep underbelly of Grandpa Peabody. The rock overhangs approximately 50 degrees and is 20-30 feet long in some sections - rounding off to vertical and slab for another 30 feet or so. It is a mammoth boulder and at the time the lines seemed futuristic. This was reflected in the name of one of the problems, Spaceman Spiff (probably somewhere in the V5 to V6 range), on the shorter, right-hand side of the overhang. With our stiff board-lasted shoes in tow and a bit less steep terrain in our mind - these problems looked way out of our league. If Grandpa Peabody seemed a bit intimidating, Grandma was much more attractive and approachable - which we discovered once we walked around the backside of Grandpa. Here was something right up our alley, albeit a bit taller than we were used to. We quickly recognized the classic forty-foot slab problem due to a stunning picture of  it in our issue of Climbing. The guidebook said 5.9 and gave no mention of the fact that it was well beyond the OTD range and more like X-rated. It appeared that Grandma was a little more complex and naughty than we had originally thought. Terry and I couldn't get our shoes on fast enough. Despite how tall the problems are at the Buttermilks, there is a strange allure to them that tends to draw you up higher than you might otherwise go. We were thoroughly entranced and just started climbing.
A hard, high-step started off the problem and we were quickly dancing our way up the scaled, granite plates & weathered edges. At about 20-25 feet off the deck, we had to make a slightly delicate traverse to the flake/arete to the left. Once we reached the large holds on the arete we felt fairly secure, although we still had about 15 more feet to go and the last few feet were pure slab climbing with small holds and a gritty texture to the rock. Once Terry and I were both at the top we realized we didn't know how to get down. Eventually we found the 5.9 descent, although the holds end with your feet still about 5 to 8 feet of the ground - so you end up just having to jump. With our indoctrination into Buttermilks climbing complete, we threw ourselves at the other problems with a bit more respect and caution.
Fortunately, just around the corner from the descent problem is the classic overhanging portion on the west side of the boulder. In contrast with Grandpa, Grandma's overhang seemed much nicer - huge, soft on the hand buckets, underclings and sidepulls up a 20-30 degree overhanging face. Just like Grandpa, the longest overhanging portions of the face were about 25 feet long. We picked the easiest problem, a 5.10 on the left side of the overhang. True to form, Grandma turned nasty again and threw in a scary 15 foot slabby finish about 15 feet off the deck. Being familiar with this type of abuse in San Diego, we just pushed our way through. The most alluring and twisted of Grandma's problems were those on the right side of her overhanging face. These involve long moves between beautifully in-cut holds (somewhere in the V5 to V6 range). The overhanging portion of these routes top out at about 25 feet, followed by 15 feet of scary slab climbing on grainy, more questionable-quality rock. We decided to forgo these psychological tortures (especially after being rebuffed by the opening moves) and moved on to other territory up the hill. Here we found safer but equally severely overhanging routes. Several of these involved cranking on huge plates of smoothly-worn rock with deep incuts around almost the entire circumference of the plate. Some holds were only a half-inch thick and 3 to 5 inch incut but still managed our full body weight.
At this point in the story I don't remember the sequence of events, however, I will mention a few of the most incredibly aesthetic of the problems Terry and I got on during our trip. A few of these problems were on the dead vertical North face of the Little Green Boulder (or something similar) - known for the neon yellow-green lichen covering the rock. Tiny inset cracks criss-cross the face like veins, providing holds that are at best a full pad and usually just tips. Most of the holds are vertically oriented, including the feet, so you rarely have anything that feels very positive as you stem and contort your way through some of the V2 and V3 problems. The most memorable of the problems was a hyper-technical route up the center of the face. Rated 11d in the old guidebook, we felt it was manageable. It took quite a while to work out the sequence which involved two questionable side-pulls to start, pasting my left foot to a high porcelain-smooth sloper and then high stepping my right foot to a half-inch wide ledge. While desperately hugging the two side-pulls, I rocked my hips high over my foot and then delicately reached my right hand to another slopey sidepull. Shifting my weight onto my leg even more I then dynoed about a foot higher to an extremely tiny hold that is made harder to latch because the opening in the crack is so incredibly narrow. The remainder of the climb sports many more slopey holds for hands and feet finished off with a desperate dyno to a good incut. I came back to this route this last August (that's why I remember the moves so well now) and when I looked in the new guidebook it had been given a V6 rating. I think the current emphasis on overhanging climbing with bigger, more positive holds has probably made this technical problem seem harder than it was originally graded back when the emphasis was on the slabby and vertical problems.
Despite all the amazing climbs I have already described, the best has been saved for last. This is the infamous Ironman Traverse (11d or V4). This is probably one of the most aesthetic problems you will ever come across, attracting climbers like moths to a flame. The 30 to 40 degree overhanging face is split by a perfectly clean downward sloping ledge that progresses from about three and a half inches on the far left (where you start) to about half an inch or less on the far right. The ledge system is approximately 25 to 30 feet long with just about the only footholds being on the same ledge you use for your hands. By the time you get to the crimps at the right-most portion of the face, you are usually working a good pump and your feet are desperately bicycling to find something substantive so that you can set up for the "Ironman" dyno to the big sloper finish. Once you slap this baby you have to transition your right heel nearby your hand, match your left hand on the sloper and then mantle your carcass over the lip. Don't come to this problem at the end of the day or you will definitely regret it.
Usually days at the Buttermilks are ended by lactic acid-worn muscles, heavily tenderized hands and fingers, and brilliant sunsets over the Sierra Nevada range. Few places can match it. If you want more of what the Buttermilks has to offer, I hear that the nearby Druid Stones have the same high quality rock with potential for many more problems than are currently at the Buttermilks. If you are interested in Hueco-esque bouldering, the Happy Boulders are a short jaunt away and will definitely fit the bill. Other classic volcanic bouldering can be had all throughout the area and especially at places like Dead Man's Summit and the Bachar Boulders. The east side of the Sierra's is a boulderer's heaven on earth and a destination not to be missed.
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