Out & About #569 | Basecamp + Revisiting Kinton Bloor

Six weeks is a long time. In retrospect, it's only a little over a month, and likely a shorter duration than my last scheduled catch-up session. But these 42 days were sufficient in making me aware of my suppressed climbing capabilities. Meanwhile,Miss Rushka's been avidly preaching the phrase "Practice makes perfect", exhibited in her nimble movements up the wall.

We had probably arranged to meet for a climb in the first quarter of the year, at the time I had first become engrossed with the sport. Alas, as my enthusiasm wavered, she gained social climbing circle. It was at that point that our progress began shifting in opposite directions.

​Fast forward to more humid conditions, our appointment finally realized on a late July afternoon.
I first headed to Hair Bank, where a stylist by the same name as Red Velvet's tallest member carefully tamed my frizzy, scraggly strands.

Some forty-minutes later, Miss Rushka and I began our first climb at Basecamp - a gym neither of us had attempted prior. Day passes were twenty-five dollars plus tax (without a student discount), with rental shoes and harnesses extra.

​The Koreatown spot comprised of three floors: a basement floor allocated for lockers and showers, a ground floor of belay routes, and an upper level dedicated to a small bouldering area. Much like both Hub locations, the second floor overlooked the rest of the facility as the highest static point in the establishment

​Waivers were required from us first, followed by a read-through of the rules sheet, a bouldering orientation, and belay test. The staff member that guided these pre-climb checks was exceptionally stern, which wasn't bad at all. Safety training is not an aspect to overlooked in any sport, and the man's attitude was a pure reflection of this. He eased up towards the end of the orientations, cracking a small smile while giving us an introductory tour of the available routes, colouring/grading notation, and general policies.

Once our tags were securely knotted, it was time to start climbing!

​Firstly, I noticed the limited number of auto-belay routes: a total of five versus the countless lead/top rope. In other words, solo climbers would have to stick to bouldering, or befriend a gym mate or two to exchange belays. To one side of the gym were somewhat easier routes, with relatively straightforward hold placement and minimal incline. Several of the routes, as I observed, crossed its neighbours'; extra heed ought to be used when attempting overlaps.
The most amusing aspect of the auto-belays were the animal-shaped holds, likely an initiative to encourage the younger generation to commence climbing.

The other side of the gym were top rope routes of higher difficulty and steep overhangs. I didn't manage to succeed at any despite my several trials, and even earned myself a nasty, navy-purple bruise. On the other hand, Miss Rushka took to these with resolute endurance.
I do wish to add that, since the top rope routes can involve a steep starting incline, it's essential for the belayer below to be aware of pendulum swings from sudden falls. Returning to the exact spot that you left off is another challenge that I later familiarized myself with (all too well).

​For new climbers, Basecamp may prove a tad intimidating. Routes are plenty, but waiting for specific ones can be tedious during periods of high traffic. Space to maneuver between the walls is also quite limited, which only contributes hassle to those looking to grasp a better idea of the available paths. As mentioned previously, auto-belay pulleys are nearly non-existent.

​The facility itself is decent, though far from immaculate. Dilapidated lockers, a dingy shower stall, leaking pipes, and two narrow benches in a room without signal described the bottom floor of the business. A total of two sinks were found in the bathroom; only one featured soap. Amongst the two bathroom stalls, one was devoid of toilet paper. Lining the floor of this washroom was a questionable fluid - a possible toilet leak. Locks were available for use under the condition of an ID exchange; hand cream was not found on the premises (with the exception of a hand balm sample).

​Two and a half hours later, I surrendered to the colourful overhangs. Miss Rushka executed her final ascent - smoothly, of course - before drifting back down to greet me. We packed up our things and crossed the street for dinner. Nearing 9:20 PM, Kinton was practically empty. This didn't automatically equate to speedy meal delivery, however.

​In spite of being acknowledged immediately and having our orders taken quickly, neither ramen appeared in a timely manner. Hunger tends to rile up even the calmest of calm folk, bringing along its good friend, Irritability, to form the duo popularized as Hangry. It didn't seem right to me that the kitchen staff were merely "hanging out". Moreover, my order of Tsukemen was a dish intended to be served cold - preparation time ought to have been minimal.
My outstretched hand summoned the same member of staff who had taken our orders.

"Can you check up on our orders? We've been waiting for a while."
He looked at us blankly for a split second before responding in slightly broken English, "Ah, would you like together or separate?"

Confused and frankly a bit annoyed, I proceeded to correct him. "Not the bill. We haven't gotten our food yet."
"Oh!" and off he dashed to check.

And from the gestures exchanged across the bar, it was clear as day that our orders had not been sent to the kitchen at all. Too fatigued to express my displeasure, a knowing look was simply cast in my dining partner's direction.

The same server returned to our table. He apologized, stating the very phrase I had predicted, "Sorry, the kitchen did not get (the order). We are making (it) now."
Summoning the last of my patience and converting it into decency, I sincerely replied, "Ok, but could you please hurry? We are very hungry." 
He replied in the affirmative before scurrying away.

"Good thing you asked."
"I'm more surprised he was so honest about it." was my answer.

​Surely enough, the Spicy Garlic and Tsukemen arrived shortly.
The summer special had been requested with sides of a Seasoned Egg (an extra toonie) and Seasoned Vegetables (an additional $3.50). The latter was nothing more beyond greasy, stir-fried cabbage, and, tasty as it was, I'm undecided as to whether the egg warrants the entire two dollars. The rest of the dish was fine: wavy noodles lubricated with sesame oil, thinly-sliced scallions and moisture-packed daikon, and a tangy ponzu were great complements. A tiny quail egg provided visual appeal in terms of colour, though contributed little in terms of taste.

​Slicker-than-desired ramen aside, I have no major qualms about the eatery. Fluency in the English language is not mandatory, as the ordering system is fairly forthright. Delivery times have never been exceedingly lengthy at the franchise either, under normal conditions that is.

​Our meal extended into the late evening hours, when even Hodo Kwaja had closed for the evening. The evening was marked dessert-less, since neither of us were craving bubble tea.

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