Recon

So... here I am with my good friends Matt and Renee.

Where ever could I be? Seems to be a meadow of some sort.

Is that? No, it couldn't be. Is that... the Flatirons?

Sure as hell looks like it. And with that little secret out of the bag, yep, I'm in Colorado.

We now interrupt our TR for a little back-story.

Matt's been cajoling, begging, and generally been a pain in the ass for the last six years trying to get me out there. Oh wait, that's me in the role of the PIA.

So a few weeks ago I get a call from Matt. He and Renee have been trying to get back into climbing and regard me as some sort of "expert" (so very, very foolish of them) and why don't I come out and do a little climbing? Jennifer practically orders me to stop talking about it and "just go already." West I wing it on a Thursday evening.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Friday

Our goal for today is Baker's Way on the First Flatiron. A slightly shorter term goal for me is not dying in the approach. In this, I am successful. As for finding the route... things go fairly typically. A vague description of "halfway up the face," coupled with trees blocking any sort of comprehensive view, and the fact that the kicked back nature of the Flatirons in general means you can only see a pitch or so up, pretty much guarantees a bit o' wandering. And mulling. And a not insignificant amount of frustration. In short, a fairly normal climbing day.

Basically, we don't find the route. I think. Maybe we found a route (possibly Fandango), but likely not our route.

I consider going back down for an easy romp on the First Flatironette, but we do have something that looks easy enough above us and maybe I should put some of this gear to some sort of use.

So I head on up.

The pitch is dead-easy but that slight tug of not knowing if I'm on any sort of route (plus the tat on a small chockstone above) convinces me to end the pitch at a small pine about 130' up. Renee seems to enjoy herself and Matt comes on up and cleans the gear. We do get a very cool view of Boulder (so odd climbing above a city) and well, we're up there and having fun.


Matt has rapped before but Renee hasn't, so I send Matt down first so I can set Renee up while Matt can give her a firemans if needed. A slight hesitation on Renee's part, but she pulls it together and slides on down.

Our late start, wandering, and the fact that Matt has a school function that will force him to consider the timeless existential question of

Do you want fries with that?

means that this will be our only pitch of the day. Matt, and Renee in particular, are thrilled. They got some climbing in at just the right level.

And, truth be told, it worked out perfectly. The aforementioned time issues, my usual glacial pace on lead, and a party of three would have been an epic in the making had we headed up a longer route. While I had a great time and did climb in the Flatirons, it seems like I did so on a bit of a technicality. In short, I can't wait to go back.

Saturday

Saturday shows us slightly overcast skies and the possibility of afternoon thunderstorms which Matt and Renee maintain is wildly odd. Apparently their gumdrop house on lollipop lane doesn't suffer anything other than perfect blue skies. Whatever.

Renee is on kid duty with Iain (their wildly entertaining near-4 year old) so it's just Matt and me today.

At Eldo. Yep. Eldo.

Behold the Bastille.


Yeaahh... we're not going to be climbing that. Matt finds Eldo exciting. I find it bowel-loosening.

Coming in the entrance gate, the ranger asks us if we would like a guide. My usual inclination is to say "no" but I think it may make a cool souvenir.

"Sure." I say.

The ranger answers with "Which kind? Hiking or climbing?"

They have a climbing-specific one?!? How cool is that?

Five minutes of walking (btw - 2 minutes will bring you to Bastille Crack which, I kid you not, starts off the road) brings us to the Whale's Tail - home to, according to rc.com, to "one of the easiest routes in Colorado." While that's a bit bruising to the ego, it's also exactly what we're looking for.

Despite it's beginner status, we have the area to ourselves. I rope up for the corner and have a great time on very featured rock with incut holds everywhere. One fun move near the top and I'm wondering where the anchor is. Perhaps if I look up I'll see the triple-slung [including actual cable] block above and one of the most comfortable belays ever.

I bring Matt up and we share a brief moment of panic that the rope won't reach on the rap until I remember that the route followed a shallow "C" which ate up some extra line. I stack Matt on rappel and head down along with some gentle rain. Matt comes down, we have a bit of lunch and decide what to do.

Matt maintains, despite people bailing all over, that the shower won't last. We also have a view to the west and the luxury of being on a route that might only gain one number bump even if it were pouring. Matt turns out to be right as the rain lets up a few minutes later. I had planned to TR the face off the anchor above, but the rope isn't down with that plan and will only respond being pulled. I don't know it at the time, but I will be soooooo happy this happened.

I rope up for the crack above which turns out to be just ridiculously fun. The bottom is blocky fun with one fun wide spot and then steepens for the last 60' to the top with a thin crack for gear. The sun is out and I'm smiling from ear to ear at I step out and back onto the face for the last couple of move to the belay.


Fantastic route and right there, the trip is made. Matt scoots right on up and we spend some time just looking over at the Bastille - I'm just marveling at the fact that I've been climbing in Eldo. Can you tell?
A couple booms of thunder spur us into action and we rap down and make it back to the car just as the sky opens up.

We stop for beer (Fat Tire and Hazed and Infused for those interested) and come home to an amazing enchilada dinner courtesy of Renee.

Sunday

We awake to snow on Sunday - which for this VA boy, is odd beyond measure for the middle of October. After the "Best Breakfast on Earth" (which includes pancakes that probably required a snow shovel to flip), Renee is adamant about showing me the mountains so we head west toward the continental divide.

Perhaps the sun will break out soon. Methinks not.

The excitement of the snowboarders catching their first rides of the season is infectious as we make out way down the other side of the divide to Araphoe Basin (which actually has one run open). We stop in for a beer where we stand out from the pack as we lack tattoos and/or piercings.

Oh yes, and youth. We also lack youth.

At the site of so many people sliding, Matt and Renee are beside themselves with excitement and bitter that we're not doing the same. We get back in the car where we pass Keystone and head on to Breckenridge. We offer the dogs a respite from the wagon and walk along the river that runs through town where we [read as I] am thrilled to see a monument to the 10th Mountain Division.


And now, on to more important matters. Like the Tommyknocker Brewery in Idaho Springs.


While Matt goes to the bathroom, Renee and I order the sampler.

Me: "We'll have two samplers."

Waiter: "That's a lot. It's like four beers apiece."

Renee: "That's OK. There's three of us."

The waiter looks slowly at me, then Renee, and then Iain: "Yeaahhh... I may need to see some ID on him."

At this point I realize the waiter has no idea Matt is with us as well and that he [the waiter] does not need to call social services/the local constabulary.

The beer is amazing.



I am particularly enamored of the Jack Whacker Wheat Ale, the Butt Head Bock, the Alpine Glacier Lager, and, of course, the Pick Axe Pale Ale - which just beats the everliving crap out of any IPA I've ever had. I could use some more. Which brings me [rather neatly] to my two complaints w/r/t Colorado:

1. I didn't mention it before mostly because it fits better here and when you only have two issues, it's better to group them together than allow each to drown alone in a sea of prose. Anyway... seems hard to find beer in something other than a liquor store. On the way out of Eldo we stopped by a gas station. No beer at all. Ok, fair enough, perhaps no liquor license. Then a 7-11 outside Golden - Coors (duh), Miller, and Bud. With that much world-class climbing, beer and victory chips should be sold on the side of the road like corn. Step it up Colorado. I expect better of you.


2. No beer on Sundays. I nearly cried when I realized that was the last I'd taste of Tommyknockers until I return.

Is it the sign of an alcoholic that his sole complaints on a trip both revolve around minor inconveniences regarding the purchase of alcohol?


So that's pretty much it. I can't wait to go back.

Thanks so much to Matt and Renee for their amazing hospitality, up to and including: god-awful airport pick-up/drop-off times; meals; a bed; shower; hot tub; and most of all, company. It never ceases to amaze me how fast you can feel comfortable with the right people - I think we hit our rhythm by the time I got my luggage. Thanks also to Iain for letting me stay at your house. And, as always, to Jennifer and Lauren - I love you both.