I left the Red River Gorge two weeks ago. I was headed for Las Vegas to meet up with Cody and some others for a week of climbing in Red Rocks over the Thanksgiving holiday.
I decided to take my time getting there, giving myself about three or four days total for travel. I spent some time watching a bouldering competition in Louisville, KY's Rocksport gym. After about two hours of spectating, I took off for Sin City. It was about 4 when I left the gym. I still don't know if any of my friends placed in the comp. Though I'm sure some of them did.
I passed through St. Louis for the second time in my life, seeing the arch reminded me of a very disoriented family vacation with my siblings, aunt and mother. It got late so I slept in my car in a rest stop.
Save for the few times I slept on some couches, I've never pitched my tent. Instead I folded down the back seat of my car (a 2010 Chevy Cavalier), blew up my thermorest, and put my feet in the trunk and laid with my head on top of the folded down back seat. I slept uncomfortably that night.
Early, 7am, I rolled out, trying to make some time, trying to get to Flagstaff, AZ. Instead I passed through Oklahoma City and some other random towns in northern Texas. I slept in my car once again, in a Walmart parking lot in some town half an hour west of Albuquerque, NM.
The next day I hit up Flagstaff. Bryan Potter talked up this place to me in more ways that I could have imagined. But as it turns out, I must have imagined everything he said because he later claimed to me over the phone that he only saw the corporate areas; he didn't even see the downtown section.
I tried to find the Tortia Lady par Melissa's recommendation, but failed at that. Instead I found some used bookstore, three different gear shops, and Macy's Cafe, which procured the best cup of coffee I've tasted. I also took the time to check out some of the world class bouldering in the area. I got directions from the local climbing gym. Despite the seemingly enigmatic and almost secretive nature of the Priest Draw, the local I talked to at the gym seemed more than willing to let me in on its location.
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| Unknown picture snagged from a Google search. |
All I can say is "wow." Limestone roofs. I haven't seen anything like it yet. It was glorious to say the least. Had the temperature been higher than thirty degrees Fahrenheit and less wind, I would have stayed there through the winter, for sure.
I spent the night in Flagstaff. Sleeping in my car has become easier. The next morning I left to see the Grand Canyon.
Twice I had been deterred by entering state parks and recreation areas, not by the crowds, or by the actual areas, but because they cost too damned much. I should have bought a National Parks Pass. But I didn't. So when I got to the Grand Canyon and they demanded $15 for an entrance fee. I thought "this better be worth it." Being stuck behind tourists who have never seen wild elk before held me up for fifteen minutes. They refused to pull over to the side to let people pass.
If you are so amazed by seeing something as common as a deer, or elk, it's probably a sign that you should get outside more.
After the stalling tourists lifted their jaws from the floor of their child filled minivan and moved on, I was cursing the entrance fee more than I was expecting to see the Canyon. "This better be worth it," I remember mumbling to myself.
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| As you can see, I am not disappointed. |
And damn it was. The sheer scale was larger than I expected. I was tempted to hike down a trail and spend the next week in the Canyon.
Fleeing there, I made my way to Vegas, met up with Toni and everyone else. We got to our room which was significantly smaller than I was expecting. I took a shower, slept on a couch, and was thrilled. Upon the suggestion of Toni, we ventured to the Hooters Casino. I won a whopping $2.50 at the Roulette table.
The next week was filled with various climbing attempts. Cody, Dave and I tried to climb at the Brass wall, where it proceeded to snow, and with dropping temperatures, we headed to the Calico Hills. We passed through the Black Corridor, where the sport climbing routes had me drooling. The sun was on the hills, there was no snow here, but across the plains we could see the mountains buried in clouds.
I lead the first pitch of the Great Red Book (5.8). The first pitch was only 5.6, but Dave had explained that the rating was made thirty years ago, and the route will feel harder. Great. I racked up, roped up, and took off. It wasn't bad at first. Then I hit a wall. I was crouched in a small pod, shaking out. I had placed a very over cammed #3 C4 Camelot in a horizontal crack above my head. Every time I tried to move out of the pod, I lost my head and retreated. I could find no hand hold, my foot was wring every time I tried to stand up. Finally I down-climbed and traversed to some crimps, whereupon I found a jug ladder to a set of bolted anchors. Cody lead the second pitch. While Dave and I simul-climbed.
The entire trip I felt like the black sheep. I was interested in the 900' 5.8s. That seemed fun. Greatly so. But I was itching for some try-hard. The most fun I had was finding a random boulder problem near Oil Creek Canyon. I worked it, figured out the strange sit-start, and topped out.
There was more climbing, of course. Some at Sunny and Steep and some at other places. When the party left and I was no longer in the Condo, I did some bouldering in at the Kraft Boulders.
I tried a Sloppy Traverse V6. I met John, and chatted a bit in between burns. Eventually we went over to the Pearl V5 where I burst a blister in my finger. Three days rest, I wound up meeting Phil and Pete and climbed at Sunny and Steep once again. While warming up, I hear a voice from behind belt out this "Travel twelve hundred miles and you still run into the same fucking people!"
Turning my head I saw Zach and Katy stomping up the approach, with Rusty trotting before. Small world. A few days before I had a similar encounter at Sunny and Steep. Travis, someone I met while I was drunk off my feet back in Kentucky approached me, and asked if we had met. Tiny world, I suppose.
I went out that night with Phil, Pete and Brenda, had a beer or two. Pete and Brenda were more than kind enough to let a complete stranger crash on their couch in their beautiful home. I am extremely grateful for their hospitality, and it humbles me that such generosity is still around.
Now Phil and I are in Bishop, bouldering to our hearts content. My fingers feel like they are on fire. I suppose that's why we are resting after four days of climbing, and why I am finally updating this blog. Photos and updates about our exploits to come . . . eventually.
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| Bishop, Ca. |
