the corruption of youth

I'm sorry Aunt Darryl - I truly am. But like a crack dealer, I'm just serving a willing populace.

the backstory

So the whole climbing thing isn't terribly popular thing in my family. Sure people find it interesting, but hey, I'm not their kid.

Fast forwarding slightly, my considerably [?] younger cousin Max is living with us for the summer. He's been nothing less than an ideal guest. There may have been hope that I/we would be a positive influence. There was probably the [faulty] expectation that between Jennifer, Lauren and work there just wouldn't be time - or at the least, inclination. Sadly, for some, there was plenty of both former and latter.

a recent anecdote

So we (Bruce and you humble narrator) took Max out last week for some bolt clippin' at Roadside. Minus the torrential rain that cut the day [slightly (and quickly remedied by wings and beer)] short,we had a terrific time. And then, the phone calls started.

"So how was climbing?" asks my mother.

"Fine." I reply.

More questions follow eventually circling back to question #1.

"You know Mom, you've now asked more climbing-related questions in the past 15 minutes than you've asked in the past 15 years of me climbing."

"I know. I was just worried."

"He's still alive. Promise"

less exposition, more action

One week later and it's shaping up to be a beyond-perfect weekend at Seneca. Max is interested in something, ahem, bigger, and Bruce is interested as well. In particular, Bruce's attendance will mean that Max can gain the summit on some more interesting ground than Old Man's Route.

The parking lot is empty (deceptively so we'll come to find) when we arrive shortly before 10. There is some debate on the best way up. Bruce is pushing for the Ecstasy Jr. - Le Gourmet - Front C - Critter crack linkup. I'm down with most of that but want to start all the way down at Skyline and do the casual East Face linkup - mostly because it more or less follows the way I went my first time at Seneca. I have a distinct memory of doing those 3 pitches, having no idea where I was while turning to Andy and asking, "Are we at the top?"

Bruce demurs and we make our way up the East face trail. Skyline is coming into focus...doesn't look too bad...and then resolves into chaos. We turn around and head for the Stairmaster. We briefly consider Vegetable Variation and just as quickly discard it.

Between an in-shape Bruce and a young and in-shape Max (yeah, I just did that Bruce) I quickly fall behind. In short, I get thoroughly pwned. Max pats me on the shoulder like a supportive parent (or child with his grandfather),

"It's OK" he says.

A few minutes later we hit the bottom of Le Gourmet with a party already on it. I look at Bruce knowing that if we'd headed here directly/me not dying on the Stairmaster, we'd be on it.

"Sorry" I apologize.

"I wasn't going to say anything" he replies.

We make our way North and eventually settle on the first pitch of Monkey See, Monkey Do. Bruce blasts up with barely a pause at the crux and is at the belay in no time - pleased to see that it's a decent pitch despite his memory of it. Max works his way up next with just a bit of effort at the crux. I pad up last and make my way across the ledge to Front C.

My running joke about Front C is that I climb it in one of two ways - gracefully or desperate clawing. I make my way up and at the crux nearly lapse into desperate clawing. My typical fear plugs the crux jam with a #2 Camalot but I manage to get up somewhere between graceful and desperate - hopefully edging more to the graceful side of things. Max quickly follows, thrilled that he has managed an "actual move" in his words by employing a nice backstep through the crux. Bruce follows quickly (as he would) and quickly scrambles up to the base of Critter Crack.

We have a quick lunch as we watch some dark clouds swirl above us while the wind picks up. I shiver. Stunning for mid-July. Bruce explains the basics of jamming to Max and then heads up. One [uncharacteristic] pause at the crux and it's then Max's turn. He starts up.

"I'm going to punch Bruce in the face when I get up there" he gasps between breaths. "Just put in a jam he says. My. Ass."

Once past the requisite jamming, Max moves quickly with only one short hang at the crux. I, despite all previous evidence to the contrary, actual jam through the bottom without a problem and continue up. Probably the best jamming I've ever managed on Critter - I actually start to get what Bruce is always trying to explain.

We unrope on the summit ledge and head North. I rope up for the summit scramble and put in a few pieces for Max's benefit (who knew there was gear going up?). He quickly follows with only the slightest bit of trepidation.

I'll go ahead and say that Max was somewhat awed by the summit. While he'd become accustomed to the view to the West as we made out way up, the new 360 vista with a drop on all sides was something new. He signs the summit register and even stands on the true summit.

We stick around for a few minutes and then head back down for the Conn's West rap.

and then, there was the rappelling

Bruce ties the ropes together and slides on down to give Max a firemans just in case. I explain how rapping works, rig him with the standard BARK check, and then, with one slightly pleading look, he makes his way down. He's clearly not thrilled but we've told him few people are - it's a necessary evil.

We've already decided that we have time for another route and that heading back up Conn's West seems the easiest choice. By the time i finish rapping I find Bruce hard at work trying to free a purple Metolius fixed by some over-enthusiastic noob. After indulging him for a few minutes, I head up the chimney pitch. Max has one short fall at the beginning trying to follow the direct line and then some fun working out chimney technique.

Bruce swarms up and then heads up the corner pitch. Max has a great time on this pitch just working his way up with steady progress. I hit the belay just in time for an odd conversation with Bruce and another party trying to negotiate with us the share ropes for the rap - which we really don't need.

Max is much more comfortable on rappel this time. Two raps later and we're headed down (barely missing Danny on his way to do Back to the Front. Again). Our purpose is clear - chips and Sierra Nevada. One quick stop to see if Ben is around (complete with Bruce's clever, and remarkably legible, note to Ben using a burnt piece of firewood as writing utensil) and we're on our way home.

Sorry again Aunt Darryl - Max seemed to have a good time.

verge: thoughts on 2008; hopes for 2009

In short, I didn't get out climbing nearly as much as I would have liked in 2008.  Things started out  promising enough (see events - at least the first one or two) and then come May, i.e., the full kick-off of the climbing season here in the Mid-Atlantic, I was wholly waylaid by work and the Project To Nowhere (PTN).  The PTN sucked alot out of me - motivation being the first casualty.

So my climbing season went something like this, a trip To TN, a fun day at Seneca, another, and then one after that. Or thereabouts.

Sad, indeed.

But even in a lackluster year, I'm enorousmusly grateful for those with whom I climb and trust:

• For Bruce: in whom I find a partner who shows the faith in me that I lack in myself


• For Cat: in whom I find a freshness of prespective - and more than a little jealousy of aptitude


• For Danny: in whom I find the inspiration for making the impossible, possible


• For Ben: in whom I find the steadfastness of pursuing a goal


• For Porter: in whom I find a brother-in arms. Wait, did we even see Porter this year?

Thanks for being on the other end of the rope.

So here's my retrospective of the year (I've only included that which I witnessed - add your own comments below): 

• A rockin' good trip to TN: bouldering at Pot Point, climbing at TN Wall, caving at Howard's Waterfall, and the holy-crap-OMFG bouldering of Rocktown
• Watching Bruce rock his way up "Marshall's Madness" while the rest of us (save Danny) flailed (and I thoroughly bloodied myself) 
• Watching Bruce style up P1 of "Ye Gods" only to turn to me on P2 and remark that he was backing up the pin through the overhang (ha-ha) - and then proceeding to ping-off with  decent-sized fall (which may be the only real fall I've held at Seneca)
• Sacking up [of my own volition [if only a tiny bit]] to do P3 of "Prune" and then having muscle spasms on P4 
• Hollerin' at everyone scattered all over the West Face of Seneca on a beautiful summer day
• Watching Danny style his way up "Back to the Front" 
• Filming Danny on "Bring on the Nubiles"
  
  
  
  
• Making another great day of what should have been a mess at the Chili-Cookoff (and another tiny sackup on "Bee Sting Corner") 
  

It was a better climbing year for some of you vs. me.  I hope to remedy that in 2009.  I look foward to climbing and seeing more of you all.  I'm also hoping I can put behind some of my issues and enjoy climbing as much as I enjoy all of you.

Climb on!

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.

nrg (4/27-30) - part the second

Wherein Porter did reveal himself to be a veritable [moderate] climbing God...

Mother H(B)en makes a mean breakfast. Ain't no better way to wake up than bacon and eggs - especially if someone else is making them.

The objective for today is Endless Wall and the many moderates of the Star Trek wall. This also means the Fern Point ladders - which I was excited to show everyone.

Until Bruce managed to ruin the whole thing.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Bruce had laid down a gas attack that, with nowhere else to go, settled atop Ben and Porter like a pungent fog.

It's a cool descent though, and everyone is charged up as we make our way down. I suggest we head upstream a bit as I know of a cool 5.7 that's quality and close by - someone should definitely do it.

We make our way to Seventh Seal where Porter volunteers to have at it. Some thin moves mark the start but Porter is more than up to the challenge.

He runs up the easy middle section before the layback crux and then fires that too with a minimum of fuss.
It's a great off-the-couch lead for him and his joy knows no bounds. The entirety of the NRG hears his whoop.

And the fact that he can see a waterfall across the way.

And that it [the waterfall] is beautiful.

Ben shows some real grace and follows quickly.

Alas, but his grace is unfortunately, and quickly, marred by a less than smooth swing 'round the rap tree and subsequent dislodging of a rock that nearly beans Bruce.

We pack up and head over to the Star Trek wall which is unfortunately plugged up by a guided party led by none other than the General, Kurt Smith. See ya next week at Senenca's Cinco de Mayo party.

A bit more walking brings us to Beech, Beech, Beech - a pitch I'd done many years ago and I remembered as being not that bad.

I was a little wrong.
It's Bruce's lead and the first bit is fun enough - but the upper part of the pitch is slick, flaring, and awkward. Bruce does a fine job of leading it though. After seconding, I confessed that perhaps my memory was a bit cloudy and that I may have rapped off the slings at the 1/2 point before the nastiness - it's been a few years. Porter has a go as well and then we wander 'round the corner to A Wild Hair for Ben's first NRG lead.

Ben has a good crack at it including a few short falls at the crux before handing the cord over to Porter...
...who then proceeds to swarm up the bottom, places a few pieces to back up the committing layback above, and then just flies up the thing. Another whoop of delight and we have our hero for the day.

We then make our way to the mega-classic Ritz Cracker - which starts with a laser cut crack that just begs to be climbed. This pitch is tailor-made for Bruce - and Porter, emboldened by his recent success, even volunteers to have a go at the crux 5.9 P2.

Bruce is completely in his element as he punches his way up to a thin, though solid, belay.

Porter is up next and raring to go at the thought of P2.

Until he sees it. Actually looks hard close up. Curious that. Some consulatation is had, brows are furrowed, (possibly some bowel loosening here too), and the general consensus is that discretion may be the better part of valor given the hour. Plus, there's a super-convenient escape ledge right there.

So I get a lap on it which helps turn around what was turning into a doubt-filled day, and then Ben roars up looking like "the butcher's dog" as he pulls into the belay.
It's been a solid day and we enjoy a pleasant hike out.

Beers back at the car round things off with a spectacular pasta/bread/wine dinner that leaves everyone sated and, well, more than a little drunk.

brief moments of brilliance punctuated by long periods of hangdogging

With unrequited calls for partnerage, Bruce and I ventured by our lonesomes to Seneca under threatening skies - arriving only to be assaulted by a fairly full parking lot.

Hoping for the best in terms of crowds, we ventured up Roy Gap with little fanfare and, at least on my part, a very conscious effort to make no mention of the goal of the day. We were both surprised and gratified to see that we were behind only one party on Skyline. After waiting not overly long, I headed up P1 in with my new Splitters, neatly, and thankfully, avoiding the usual CF at the traditional belay.

We had an opportunity to watch someone just fucking waltz up Dufty's Popoff before Bruce made short work of P2 on KC with the usual 3-piece assortment of gear. I motored on up and was soon there.

Below it.

The heretofore unmentioned goal of the day for Brian - Beesting Corner. A climb long-eyed and climbed by Bruce last fall. He assured me I had it in the bag.

I tried to get a little prepped and headed on up.

Place a piece, worry some, move tentatively. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I repeated the cycle to about the 1/2-point until I was so torqued (including one "oh fuck" moment where a stem past an overlap threw me off balance) that I eventually took a hang and then a lower off a .75 Camalot.

I sat at the belay for a bit, trying desperately not to fall into the well of self-doubt I could see right in front of me. I eventually worked my resolve back up and headed back up. Things went better this time. I felt a bit more at home and while the aforementioned cycle hadn't changed, the pace had - at one point Bruce was sure I was going to fire the rest of it in one go.

But alas my arms betrayed me. Seeing what I though to be burly exit moves, I took another hang on a #3 Camalot and tried to de-pump.

Bruce patiently held the other end of the cord. Eventually I got in some gear and fired the final moves with something I like to think was grace.

It wasn't the best style, but I'm certainly proud of the effort and my desire to stick it out. And a 1000 thanks to Bruce for encouraging me - couldn't have done it without him. Looking forward to doing it again w/o all the psychological baggage.

Having accomplished my goal for the day, I suggested we head up to the North Peak so Bruce could have a go at Rox Salt. This time rain was no problem and Bruce just walked the thing. He had the briefest of pauses with some awkward gear to start things off, and then just cruised the rest in no time at all. A great pitch and lead that was only marred by lowering into a tree - much to my delight.

I then headed up Roux, which, while offering easy climbing, was a bit of a sandbag on gear. Not hard, but a little DFU - certainly for a 5.3. It turned into a good pitch though, and I set the anchor so Bruce could tackle Bear's Delight.

He made short work of the odd beginning moves and worked nicely through the top (after some admonishment from me on stemming off the tree). The only downside to the pitch was the inconvenience of the belay that made it easier for Bruce to lower and me to clean on TR than to have both of us at the belay. From the top, we both had [individually] our first view of the South Peak from the North - a unique perspective to be sure. And gratifying as we saw parties at every conceivable belay station.

We rapped and headed down the East Face trail (much less of a hassle when it's not raining btw) and congratulated ourselves on 3 coups for the day.

1. No issues with crowds
2. Stayed cool and in the shade on an otherwise hot day
3. Four new pitches for one or both of us
   

Ben and Porter, you were missed.

nrg (4/27-30) - part the first

Wherein Bruce and Connors did venture forth and explore the Bridge Buttress and Bubba City...

66 West.
81 South.
64 West.
19 South. No, wait...North.

The Comfort Inn will do just fine. We're here and too tired to care.

Morning dawns an hour later than I thought and we stumble down to a surprisingly large continental breakfast. We stuff ourselves silly and decide that today's best bet will probably be Junkyard Wall - it offers Bruce's motivator, New Yosemite, and some other moderates including New River Gunks.

New River Gunks is at Junkyard? I coulda sworn it was at the Bridge Buttress. While it's been like nine years, I have a fairly vivid memory of being under the bridge. Ah well, Junkyard it is.

How do we get there?
I seem to remember it being this way.
Or perhaps not.
What does the map say?
No, you're right. It's not terribly helpful.
Perhaps... no, those are definitely no parking signs.
Damned if I know.
Perhaps now would be a good time to pretend like I've never been here either.
Why?
Because my memory is clearly not worth a shit.

Foiled by inobvious parking and possble trespassing issues we default to the Bridge Buttress. It has some moderates as well. Something to cut our teeth on, why right here in the guidebook there's a 5.6, Gunky Heaven....

And suddenly the clouds part and everything makes sense. That was the route I'd done before. My memory suddenly [somewhat] vindicated, I decide to take another run on up.

I mince up and down below the first roof for not too long before boldly (har, har) commiting to a series of very easy moves. The middle of the route goes easily and I'm soon below the second roof where I eye some rap webbing from some previous soul who couldn't or wouldn't move on. Unfortunately, because I've done this route before, I know it can be done and thus have no excuse to rap.

I go up and down, according to Bruce, "like a 1000 times," before commiting to some thin DFU moves to the top. The only thing that gets me up is the fact that I've done it before. Bruce, of course, waltzes up in a matter of minutes.

It's Bruce's turn now, and while Up to Disneyland (5.7) is in the range, it seems a little committing and the top inobvious. But Out to Lunch (5.8) while harder, offers what seems to be perfect hands and is thus the obvious choice for Bruce. An awkward start is followed by some tough jamming before a decent rest and the crux.

Bruce isn't wild about the pro but needs to get moving before he burns out. As he launches for the thank-god hold his feet cut out before latching on. And the climbing just doesn't let up. What looked to be 4th class from below, while ledgy, still has some difficult moves.

He finishes up fairly easily and I get brutalized by the crack coming up .
A proud lead to be sure.

My turn again and the corner of Barefoot Alley (5.8) looks good.

Things go swimmingly until the roof where the left exit seems hard, and is, moreover, plugged with gear, while the right, seemingly easier, leads nowhere. I eventually pull right and step back left and am now faced with a whole lotta nothing - inobvious moves and no gear.

Why does this always happen to me?
Screw pride and screw this.
Those thin trees offer at least something.

I sling 'em and move on up - glad to be on top. Bruce manages to pull through the roof in proper fashion and we head back down.

While the Bridge Buttress certainly offers more moderates, we decide to round off the day with a new locale in the form of Bubba City.

A lengthier drive than walk (apparently 82 is now one-way and we have to go all the way down to the river, back up the other side, and back across the bridge) brings us to, of all things, a 4-star 5.7 - Daisy Cutter. With accolades like that, how can we not climb it? It's Bruce's turn on point...

Hmm, interesting.
That was thin.
A chimney on a sport climb?

Well that sorta sucked.
4 stars my ass.
What the fuck do I do here?
And why the fuck is it bolted like that?
4 stars my ass.
Watch me.
That sucked.
Worst.
5.7.
Ever.

Bruce was less than enthralled. I'd planned on releading it, but after watching Bruce decided to go up on TR and offer a perhaps less-biased view of the climb. I mean it does have four stars after all.

Nope, it sucked alright.

With day dwindling and the fact that we still need to decide on our campsite, we decide to fit one more climb in at the nearby Beer Wall. We eventually settle on Near Beer (5.6) which offers, despite it's 1 star rating, substantially better climbing than Daisy Cutter. Bruce leads again (by this time I was fairly lethargic and falling into one of my "states") and I quickly follow.

The day done, we decide to camp at the low-key Mountain State campground, get some forgotten niceties (pillow, towel) from K-Mart, grab some mexican grub, and await the arrival of Porter and Ben.

Beers are downed by all below a starry night.

booleans from cooper's rocks, wv

A hitherto near dogmatic adherence to trad climbing has recently given way to an embrace of all things climbing. Bouldering to be more specific.

I was as surprised as anyone.

static void main (string[] args) {

gym workouts for three weeks makes one feel in-shape = true;
gym workouts for three weeks makes one in-shape = false;

there's nothing quite like climbing in the fall = true;

porter can style his way up most anything = true;

brian can too = false;
brian can with significantly more effort = true;

guy who runs laps on your problem and then allows himself a "new" send by doing the problem in a different way.Equals(new Asshat());

a hole in his leg and a broken back will slow bruce down on a crack climb = false;
the same crack climb will flummox a perfectly healthy porter and brian = true;

throwing 3 cords on the few TR areas.Equals(new Selfish());

porter can keep it together on a highball = true;
barely = true;

bruce can work the same traverse as healthy folk = true;
bruce sends the longest problem of the day = true;

bastard(new Bruce()).hasn't been climbing all day though = true;
brian isn't bitter = false;

couldn't hope to find better climbing partners and friends = true;

}