Drove out of Utah early April heading for the Red River Gorge. After a quick two day stop in Colorado to see some good friends and attempt to climb at the Monastery - a day that will go down in as one of the coldest climbing days I can remember - I pushed eastward and found myself at the Motherload for the first time less than two days later. Driving across the country went smoothly, and first impressions of the east were that it was...boring? I quickly came to the conclusion that I had always taken for granted the size of the mountains in the west, as the 'Mountain Parkway' that led to Miguel's was surrounded by hills not any bigger than the hills that surrounded Pullman, Washington, the town I grew up in. Expectations were low, I couldn't imagine that these tiny hills could hide as much rock within them as they do.
The Monastery.
As for climbing at the Red I showed up in pretty poor shape after not climbing routes in months, and having been served numerous 'good-bye' meals in Utah. The endurance came along and just as I started to feel strong(er) the poor conditions began to intensify which led to a bit of frustration (apologies to my belayers who experienced this). I did manage to climb many amazing routes, and tick a few routes that gave me a great challenge. The route Skinboat gave me heaps of trouble, and will go down in my mind as one of the hardest routes I've personally done, as well as the most unexpected send I've ever pulled out. The climbing is amazing, and if things roll as they have then I hope to the Red soon.
Gray's arch in the Red region.
Climbing at Purgatory.I have to take this moment to give a HUGE thank you to David and Marci, Laura, Brent and Melissa for the good climbing times in the Red. I think I spent pretty much everyday climbing with at least one of you and it was always good. Hopefully we will climb more again soon.
So now I've departed from the Red; funny how fast the time went. A few things made me want to stay, but c'est la vie. I find myself currently sitting in central Canada in a small town named Falcon Lake. I managed to pick up some painting work, even though I wasn't expecting to work until in the fall; it seems work never comes along when you need it to so I decided to jump on this opportunity. I'm painting with two great people I met in the Red, Jai and Marin, and it has been quite the time. They are full of energy and excitement;I feel they know how to enjoy life. Refreshing to meet such people, and just being around them and listening to how and why they voyage through life as they do has been mind-opening. It's been great to think about it, and try to figure out myself by hearing what they have done. It has been a very productive time in my mind, hatching out a bunch of useless ideas. Unfortunately the three people in life who know me well enough aren't here and I can't afford the international cell phone bills to call them to bounce ideas. Oh well, I've got many, many car hours coming up on the drive so I'm sure we'll get a chance to ponder them.
Jai and Marin, during one of our lake adventures.
Climbing outside of Kenora, Ontario.After this painting stint, I'm off on a plane (first plane since I came to the US 17 years ago, yikes!) to Alaska to salmon fish for 5 weeks. Up until a bit ago I was somewhat unready to go at this even though I had agreed, but now I think it will be good. I'm hoping to fit in a couple days of climbing in Spokane once I return to Washington. Deep Creek is a place that will always remind me of the good old days, when things were simpler, I was younger, and the place I fell in love with climbing. Thankfully the reigning Crag Sheriff and Route Police Captain are some of my favorite people I know, and the routes are the best I've done so I'll always love the place.
Things have been a roller coaster so far this year, and I guess I've become content with the fact that this will never end. Thom Yorke said something along the lines of "if it's getting too predictable, it's time to fuck things up" and I guess that is how I feel about life at this moment. Things are beautiful, and I'm sure when I return things will continue on this perfect, disastrous path, but I'm feeling really content about this. Off to sail the seas. Take care everyone and thank you for reading.
