Seurat

Last Friday, Justin and I found ourselves at Mt. Evans again, on what was so far the chilliest morning of the season.  On previous trips, Justin was charitable enough to allow me to climb on Bierstadt early in the day, with favorable conditions.  By the time we would walk over to his project, Seurat, it would be baking in the sun, slick as marble. This day, however, we headed straight for the merciless crack, with the sun still sequestered to nether regions of the horizon.  After just a few attempts, Justin climbed Seurat, executing with style and grace (and animated facial expressions, as illustrated below). Well done, sir. Well done.

Justin explores the interface between anguish and euphoria on Seurat.

BIERSTADT!!!

SENT!!! YES!!!*

*All-caps and exclamation points are useful in conveying the full thrust of my excitement, wouldn't you say? Oh, and I nearly forget:  SO PSYCHED!!! 

Mt. Evans

Justin Fish warming up on the Ladder.  This climb is arguably one of the finest warmups on the planet, depending on your perspective, of course.  A lot of my projects make good warmups for the tough kids.

Justin warming his head up on Timeline. 

Far too many photos of Bierstadt, a problem I've yet to complete.  After a few days of work on it, I've managed to link it from the bottom to the top, where I've fallen off several times now. This Monday will be the day of reckoning (or, failing a send, Wednesday). My skin is conditioned, my muscle memory is intact, and I am so psyched I can barely sit still to type this. The celebratory beverage sits chilling in the refrigerator. Good thing I don't believe in "jinxes."

Justin brings his newly honed trad skills to bear on Seurat.  Just wait until he brings his refreshed bouldering skills to bear on trad climbing.  CRUSH!!! 

The Great Picture Purge (Or: Here's What I've Been Up To, Sort Of)

Over the past couple of months, the energy that I once devoted to rock climbing (and occasionally posting pictures and videos thereof) has been directed elsewhere, and spread pretty thin.  The hiatus has been good for me in many ways, but I'm now ready to renew my obsession.  And just in time:  The alpine areas have melted, and are ready to be flailed upon by yours truly.  By the time I get my mojo back (to the extent that I ever had it), the temps should be crisp and the friction extraordinary.  Hopefully I'll see some of you out there.

In the mean time, here are some photos of recent trips I've taken.  I hope you enjoy.

The Olympic Peninsula 

Nationalistic shenanigans, eh?  Canada Day in Victoria, BC. 

Fresh forage in Vancouver.

The summit of the Chief at Squamish, BC.

Bobcat near the summit of the Chief.  Look toward the center of the photo, just under the splintered log.

Slug.

Another slug.  I promise it was a really exciting trip to the Pacific Northwest.

Even on vacation, I can't forget about my projects at home.

With a little agricultural TLC and viticultural intervention, these grapes too will one day get me drunk.

Mitch imbibes, albeit grudgingly.  Touring wineries is such a chore.

See... It's a total chore.

Shaggy Parasol mushroom.

Katie and Simone on Mt. Yale.

Bernholtz Arete at the Skyland Boulders in Crested Butte. 

Atomic (aka Tick Fever)

Designed to Placate

Blog post as mitigation.  Here you go...

Jason Pinto on Veritas.  We've been spending a great deal of time at this boulder recently. Mostly under it. Rarely atop. We hope to favorably alter the ratio of these prepositions soon. I did manage to climb to the top from the original stand-start last week, but the sit-start still eludes me, so my work here is not quite finished. 

Lauren ekes out a reluctant smile despite rainy/snowy Memorial Day conditions. The technicolored raincoat amplifies her intrinsic cheer. (Note the aspens, which had not even started to bud. It was evidently a long winter for chumps in the high country).

Simone and Russ most certainly misbehavin'

The aftermath of debauchery at Camp Dick.  The restaurant crew wanted to go on a backpacking trip, so I very carefully coerced them into going to Camp Dick, where I had an unfinished project (Put Some Hair Around It). It was an altogether successful trip, culminating in the construction of the "perfect smore," a virtuous sort of outdoorsy drunkenness, and an ascent of the boulder problem that has spit me off for two years. I can't wait to convince these non-climbing friends that Mt. Evans is a really scenic place to camp.   

Mt. Meeker and Long's Peak. 

By Way of Update

I really have nothing to say, and will belabor that point with many words.  Some of you have issued demands for an update, and must now receive it graciously.  Those who haven't asked for one-- indeed stumbled upon this blog by sheer accident -- will be labeled as "collateral damage."  I will now proceed.

During this past month in Colorado, I've been forced to alter my criteria for a successful day of bouldering.  In the Southeast, a successful day was one in which I sent many quality problems, finished a project, or came so heartbreakingly close to finishing a project that subsequent success was essentially guaranteed.  I think that's a pretty safe, generic way to define success in bouldering.  But I have manifestly failed on all of those counts since returning here.  Therefore, I've been forced to redefine success so that it appears less fleeting.  

For example:

• Success is getting really good roundtrip gas mileage to and from the crag by employing my mad geriatric driving skills.

• Success is knowing that Simone deconstructed an entire elk carcass during one of my flail sessions on Get Over It.  (She then deconstructed laissez faire economics and string theory just because).

• Success is defecating once, twice, nay... thrice before giving my chosen boulder problem an earnest burn.  Praise be unto coffee. 

• Success is chewing up and swallowing my performance-enhancing chunk of ginger without succumbing to the full-body, spasmodic hiccups that it sometimes causes.  It's the damnedest thing when that happens...     

• Success is -- between attempts -- reading ten pages in Oprah's new self-help book-of-the-month pick, hugging myself for purposes of stretching and reassurance, and sobbing uncontrollably in order to purge excess water weight (spitting in a cup is so crass...)
  

So there you have it.  Definitive proof that I am a successful rock climber and can continue to flaunt my self-aggrandizing demeanor, in spite of the dearth of problems on my 8a spraysheet. I hope all of you youngsters in my readership have learned that with a little self-delusion, a flair for sophistry, and some good old fashioned determination, you too can be successful one day.  It's all a matter of definitions.  

Next week's lesson:  Successful Career Evasion and How to Drink Copious Quantities of Wine! 

Back in Boulder

Snow-capped peaks; Potent microbrews; Militant, wheat-free vegans; Beautiful people walking comelier dogs; Painful, granola-induced diarrhea (quickly remedied with kombucha); Chinook winds; Vigorous grade debates; Prius drag races; Painful crystal pulling; Three-hundred days of sunshine (with attendant melanoma); Low atmospheric pressure (allowing for expansive egos); Charismatic fauna; Multiparous mothers who are stronger than you; Cultural diversity...  

Well, maybe not that last one.  We tend to reflect a lot of light here.* But the other overlying idiosyncrasies are just part of what makes me glad to call this place "home"... at least for a while.  

Just making sure that I can still do the move on Moffat Direct, one year crustier.  While it is much maligned, Flagstaff Mt. is a good place to try and earn street credit.  Not that I need any... yo.

Andy Mann warming up for a session at Arthur's Rock

Andy on Ode to Failure

Simone, content to burrow wherever we are.  (Note to park rangers:  No actual erosion was caused by this placid K-9.  Blogs are not real life.)

Jason Pinto on Laying in Wait, the "best slab in Colorado."

*Yes, I am conflating culture and color.  What of it, you goddamn hippie!?