City of Rocks - Rye Crisp 5.8

A quick rock climbing video. Even if you don't watch the whole thing, skip ahead to 3:26. Evolv makes the kind of shoes you can trust when you have to most.

Pics of Shirlee Temple

Pics of my new bike.  I named it today: Shirlee Temple.

It felt like summer today

And it was.

I went climbing,

went for a hike,

feel much better.

A million tiny things

I read a book several years ago called "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Despite the controversy surrounding the truthfulness of the events described in the book, it is an interesting and powerful story. It's a story about refusing to be a victim, accepting responsibility and the ability to control your own fate.

I too am a firm believer that only I am in control of my destiny, but I was thinking about all the million tiny things that have led me to certain places in my life.

200 million years ago, sand dunes covered what is now Eastern Utah. Compaction, lithification, erosion, weather and a lot of time created what is known as the Wingate formation. It's a layer of sandstone that splits vertically and erodes slowly. The cracks that form stay uniform in width and have very little flare. In one area of Eastern Utah, wind and water broke through most of the Wingate, as well as the Kayenta and Navajo layers above. In this one tiny area only a small tower was left as the cracks formed and the blocks fell away into the talus left below. The earth shifted, and the lightning bolt cracks on its east face were formed. The cracks shot all the way through and light can be seen from the other side, but the towers stood. What is left is called the North Sixshooter Peak.

Just a few years after the dunes were turning to stone, my mother and father met in Rexburg, Idaho, and another few years after that, I was born into this fine world.

I grew up in Idaho. I lived in Guatemala for a couple years. I went to church, played baseball, had birthday parties, got in trouble, went hiking and camping. I learned so much in school at home, from friends and enemies. I met incredible people and developed a love for nature and being outside. Dad took me rappelling and caving. We climbed peaks in the Tetons. Family vacations more often consisted of educational road trips rather than Disney Land and Lagoon, though we did those too.
In 2005 I was mountain biking one night in Little Cottonwood Canyon. When I finnished riding the trail that night, I met some friends who were "bouldering" on the Secret Garden boulders near the mouth of the canyon. I joined them for a couple hours and quickly fell in love with climbing on the boulders. It was fun, and it made me strong. Bouldering became my activity of choice over the next few months. I changed jobs, and then quit working altogether. Summers and I travelled for nine weeks in Central America immediately prior to my move to Texas for a new job.

Texas doesn't have good granite boulders like Utah, so If I wanted to climb, I was going to have to learn to clip bolts on limestone. I did, and I loved it even more than bouldering. Texas climbing got me strong, and when I came back to Utah in 2007 I finally realized how much potential Utah has for climbers. Well, I started to realize.

The next year, I started climbing with Alex Meyer. Alex has certainly been my greatest climbing mentor. Aside from showing me the potential for incredible climbing in and around Salt Lake, he showed me trad climbing, got me started buying important gear, and taught me technique. More importantly, he pushed me to climb things that were beyond my current abilities. Alex didn't get me into climbing, but he pulled me into the deep end and continues to push me to swim.

I lived in the wilderness of Arizona for several months, helping young people learn. I moved back to Utah, and I've been lucky enough to live and climb with the Gregories. I've become debt free and able to control almost all limits that would keep me from doing what I choose. Devin almost died, but he's mostly recovered. It's so good to have him back. I love having my friend back.

So here it is, 2009. I started climbing with Adam Wilkins earlier this year in the gym, but we didn't do much until this spring rolled around. Something clicked about the things that Adam and I could climb when we pushed each other. Adam is incredibly strong mentally and is able to focus and pull through the most intense climbing situations. We climbed almost every weekend doing some incredibly epic things that would cause most people to load their pants. Our crack climbing skills increased, and we became mentally stronger.

With a goal to climb 30 routes in three days, Adam and I went back to Indian Creek this weekend. We didn't make our goal. The second day's climbing took too long, and we were only able to complete 4 pitches each as the sun was getting low Saturday afternoon. So we made the decision to climb the North Sixshooter Peak, the one described in the 3rd paragraph of this blog.

Fingers lock deep in the crack that widens to maddening thumbstacks. (1)
Only commitment to move on insecure and pumpy locks will get you up.
Relief as the void grows large enough to be filled perfectly by hands.
Bigger and bigger, fists then chickenwing grunting through off width. (2)
Strain for a crimp on the face, pull your body in to find rest.
Belay at the top on tattered webbing and knotted cord. (3)

Skirt accross a sloping ramp and place a stopper. (4)
Reaching high, tips and then perfect fingers with flailing feet.
A rest in a pod and then back to locking knuckles.
Hands are wonderful though the roof is stressful, but only for a moment. (5)
Traverse left again or you'll end up in a liquid sky.
Here the hands are too small for average humans.
But to layback up the diagonal roof is devine. (6)
Pull into the pod. Place blue and gold, pull up the line. (7)

Hands to another roof, the crack is too small for hands.
Expose yourself to the sun, the desert air, the empty space. (8)
Pull onto the face of the climb.
The jams are perfect, but the exposure is airy.
Double cracks provide options. (9)
Fingers and hands and fun scrambling.
Rearrange gear on the sides and enter entirely into the chimney. (10)
Grunt, moving painful inches at a time.
Shoulders and knees leave their skin behind
Cams get stuck between body and rock, pinching, stabbing.
Finally, wider then sunlight and scrambling to the top. (11)

Relax, you're on top, 450 feet off the ground, a thousand feed above the valley. All these things came together to this one final moment. And yet, it's just another tiny piece in the big picture. It's just another tiny piece that leads to another unforgetable moment.

9.5 out of 10, a.k.a. The Vastly-Superior Summer

Damn!

I just got home from a little St. Patty's party watching my friend Matt Lewis rock out with his band. When they started into a cover of Neil Young's "Down by the River" I smiled so big I almost turned my face inside out. Life is really amazing and I plan to keep it going. I told Krissy that it's about a 9.5 out of ten, but I don't know what could even be missing. Maybe some hot, girly lovin'. Who knows?

The real point of this blog is to get the word out about this summer. This summer has the potential to top the summer of 2005, the summer of 1998, the summer of '99. The year of 2009 is poised to be one of the funnest in known history. Why?, you ask. Because I have decided to grab this summer by the hoohahs and make it that way. I'm going to tell you what makes summers amazing. Then I'm going to tell you what I/we are doing this summer. Last, I'm going to name some names, and leave other invitations open as to who will be participating in this, potentially the greatest summer of them all.

In order to understand what makes a good summer, it's important to review some of the years gone by and what made them so good, also, the things that just make for good activities-the stuff good summers are made of.

1998 was the year that I and the guys graduated from high school. I spent May traveling in southern Mexico and was greeted upon my return with my first taste of what post-high school Rexburg had to offer. Girls were abundant, the weather was so warm and friendly, and the days were spent doing the things that I loved. I did work that summer, but that was easy enough, and I didn't let it get in the way. I hiked in the Tetons, and tasted the thin air of the tall mountains. We took the four-wheelers out to the sand dunes so many times. It seems like we went nearly every Monday to steal the girls away from their little FHE groups. That summer faded into fall, Ricks College Expedition, and new friendships.

1999 was similar to '98. Fourwheelers, barbeques with sausage and Mt. Dew. Lots of new friends. There was camping and hiking and caving. The spillway, the sand dunes, Green Canyon. I ate at Craigo's Pizza every night without fail. Small pizza bomb, pepperoni and mushrooms: $2.36. What a deal! Rambo was a classic game that showed it's head quite a bit around this time.

One of the things that made these summers so great was the people behind the activities. There were always people at Craigo's to hang out with. There was always a crew doing something. The whole crew was never there, but the gang was big enough that we were guaranteed enough people to pull off some type of shenanegins. (had to use that word since it's St. Patty's) The Red Dragons, the EBR, the Prep Girls, the Grey Ghosts-who were really just Dragons that didn't want to go through the initiatory beating in the back of craigos. Most of all, the 186.9-my gang! There were all the girls in Natalie's apartment, Kim's apartment, and all the people that they knew. It was crazy!

2005 was a year that certainly changed my life. I started mountain biking, canyoneering, and climbing all that year. Only twice, between Memorial Day and November that year, did I fail to climb a mountain, decend a slot canyon, or go through a cave at least once a week. The Gregories were certainly the wind in those sails. I have Sam and Devan to thank for sure. Never, ever did I have to worry about what I was doing on a Friday night; I was going canyoneering. Saturday night I was too tired to do anything after the day's activities, so my weekends were filled.

So my point - This summer is poised at the tipping point of being the most amazing summer yet. Gas is cheap enough for now that it won't limit our opportunities to see the best of what the west has to offer.

Here's what we're going to do. Some things have approximate dates, some are wide open.

Indian Creek - Climbing - This coming weekend. Get your harnesses and get ready for some hard climbing. If you can't do that, come camp out/hang out or get ready for next week

Zion NP - Canyoneering - Memorial Day weekend, or sometime close. Anyone and everyone should be down for this. Pine Creek, Keyhole, Behunin. We could throw in some climbing for the more hard core.

Devil's Tower, WY - Climbing and Camping

City of Rocks, ID - Climbing and Camping
.
Destination unknown - Anasazi style/primitive camping trip - This will take some planning ... or not.

Lake Powell trip - Devan's got a boat. If we get this crew big enough, we'll get a houseboat for showering and cooking, but camping on the beaches is supreme.

Darby Canyon Ice Caves - Sometime after June - Caving fun fun fun!

Grand Teton - Last half of August - Get tough folks. This is not for the faint of heart. Dad, I would like nothing more than to stand with you on top of this mountain. Let's do it this year.

I'm open to so many more suggestions, but that's a start.

Finally, the people who need to be included. You're all invited. I'm mostly just using this as a guilt trip to make certain people show up. Also, it shows that the group will be big enough to pull this off.

Devan and Ginny, Sam and Massiel. Of course the Gregories will be there. We're going to be building Devan's new house this summer too, so that should provide some fun.

Summers, get your ass out of the house, and quit making up lies. We need you.

Little Devin and Dirty Adam, the climbing kids.

Alex, the climbing king.

My family. Dad and Mom, come to Zion this year. You'll love it. Brian, unemployment, or lack of work just means more time to play. Stacy and Julia and Jeff, you too. Karie, you want to learn to climb. This summer is going to be the one to do it.

Will, you get a line all to yourself. :)

Marianna, the Logan crew, Josiah Griffin, Joe Griffin, Jake Moss. I'll have friends coming in from out of town constantly. Tyson Crosbie, you don't have that long of a drive to meet us in southern you-ta ha ha. Little Adam, Toni and Misti. Tanner. Lizzy D. Dodge and Krissy. Beatbox Kyle. Cynthia A. So many more. Just come along and ride with us ... fantastic-slide slide slippity slide.

Adventure ... So far so good, but could be better.

On Thursday, I drove out of Draper, UT and took my time getting down to Las Vegas, Nevada.

My first destination was the lovely Red Rocks Recreation Area for a little rock climbing. That night I found out that Canada had invaded the continental US. Or at least there were close to 100 people from all parts of Alberta. Apparently, it was "reading week" in their universities, so a lot of them came down to Nevada to climb. I think they meant to invade, but then realized that they are all Canadians, so they don't have any guns. On that note, they tried to cover up their embarrasment by claiming that they had diven hundreds of miles to climb rocks. Yeah right.

Anyway, I ended up making friends with quite a few canadians, their jars o' pasta, and their buddy "eh". On friday I did some climbing which was excellent. I definitely want to spend more time in Red Rocks.

That evening I drove to Fontana, California to get ready for the Nascar races. Saturday consisted of getting tickets for all 3 events, going to two of them, deciding that I didn't want to watch the 3rd, selling that ticket, and driving back to Las Vegas to do some more climbing.

Climbing was great today, but the weekend's events truly manifest one of my greatest challenges in life ... slowing down. In retrospect, there are a lot of things that I would have done differently here in the opening stages of my trip. Had I known that my driver was going to win the race today, I would have liked to have stayed for that race. Retrospect, and what I would have done, however, is nothing more than not accepting responsibility for my actions.

Warning: I'm about to get all philisophical and phillistinical.

So here I am. I meant to travel all the way back to Salt Lake today, but it was not to be. I drove my Trooper as far as Mesquite, parked it and packed a bag. I sat by the freeway entrance for about an hour before anyone stopped. I had told myself that I would only accept a ride that would get me all the way back to Draper. My weakness really showed through when the first car stopped. They were only going to St. George. I knew I was falling into a trap, one that I was creating, but in a desperate grab at small success, I cut short from my long term goal and got in the car.

St. George turns out to not be a real friendly place for hitchhikers. The freeway entrance isn't conducive to people stopping, even if they would. It's impossible to hitchhike southbound at the exit where I had been dropped off. The hours ticked away, and I rotated between going to the gas station and asking for rides and sitting down by the freeway ramp with my thumb out.

Then it got dark.

Then it started to rain.

I went back up to the gas station and called a shuttle service. That would cost me $65-more than just getting a hotel room. I couldn't camp because I hadn't packed the necessary camping equipment. I had planned on making it all the way back to Salt Lake that evening. What a mess!

It was too dark to thumb rides, and no one was stopping anyway, so I headed back up to the Flying J and started asking for a ride either way. I didn't care if I had to backtrack to Mesquite and sleep in my car. I just didn't want to spend the night bumming around the Flying J until they called the cops on me. No rides ... no rides ... one lady said she would, but she just didn't feel comfortable with the situation. I could understand that. I needed a ride, but I definitely didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, or harrassed.

I didn't ask minivans full of families for just that reason, but I did ask a guy next to a minivan full of the Johnson family, and the Johnsons came through for the human race. I loaded up in the back next to Talla, their black German Shepherd, and they gave me ride back to my car in Mesquite.

More importantly, they gave me a lot of faith that there are still some people out there who aren't just kind, but have a spine to back that up. I waved my thumb at a thousand cars today. Most people just averted their eyes. Some revved their engines in mockery at my chosen situation. Some people though, looked right at me ... with sympathy in their eyes and nothing in their SUVs, and then they drove on by, wishing all the time that they could have picked up that nice-looking young man. The situation just didn't allow it.

Let's exercise our human compassion ... A time is coming when we won't be able to just write a check to such and such charity and know that we've made the world safe, well-fed, and Christian. The time to exercise the 13th Article of Faith is here. No excuses. Let the kindness flow.

Thanks to the Johnson family, who didn't just pick up a hitchhiker in need tonight. They made a friend. They showed courage. They demonstrated what faith/kindness coupled with actions can do. I'll sleep warm tonight.

Becoming what I came from

I find myself turning into my father. It's more than simple actions, doing the things he does. Mannerisms, behavior, looks, are all following patterns I've seen before. I think that I am often acutely aware of things that are beyond my control. Or even if such behaviors are in my control, I choose not to suppress them.

I doubt highly that I can explain the subtleties in my maturation that I am trying to express. Let's just say this: Today when making juice from concentrate, I added extra water. Dad, it used to bug me so bad when you would do that. Today, I had no control. It was as if my hand had a mind of it's own. In went the extra half can of water.

On a funnier note, today I cleared out the entire Talmage Building on BYU campus. After welding pipe and burning insulation, and using a cutting torch within a few feet of this smoke detector, this afternoon, from four stories up, I dropped a six inch piece of copper pipe. It bounced down a ventilation shaft, and squarely hit said smoke detector. It was a one in a million shot. I can't believe it set off the alarm. So that was fun.

Finally, I would like to second Joe's recommendation of Bon Iver, and even make another of his songs available for those who wish to sample his work. Go buy the album. The song is Blood Bank.

Song is now uploaded. Download at will.

Uncle Ralph

My uncle Ralph passed away this morning. He's the first of my Dad's siblings that I have known well to die. (My uncle Val passed away when I was very young.) So . . . with my current philosophies and lifestyle, I choose to celebrate his life and the memories I have of him, but I'd be a lying son of a gun if I didn't admit that I am rather sad at this moment, More on that later. I don't want this blog to be about me, but rather about Uncle Ralph and what a good guy he was.

Uncle Ralph lived in Tuscon, AZ. I'm pretty sure that his family was the most distant of all the Prices. Still, he seemed to make it up to Carey, ID every Memorial Day to visit the family and Grandpa's grave almost every year. When I was five years old, Dad, Julia, Grandma, Grandpa Elmo and I drove in Grandpa's silver Toyota van down to Arizona to go to Lisa (Ralph's daughter) and Tommy's wedding. I was little, but I remember Uncle Ralph setting up a pinata for all the kids. I remember his house fairly well, and especially the back yard. (because it scared me for some reason)

Some years, after the usual Memorial Day trek though Carey and Pecaboo, all the cousins would end up in Burley at Uncle David's house. Only one person could water ski at a time, but five or six people could be on the water weinie at any given moment. It was the goal of the given Uncle driving the boat towing the big yellow tube to make enough twists and turn, big waves, and speed to violently dump all of the riders into the cold Snake River water. No one, and I repeat no one, knew how to violently dump poor Price kids in the river like Uncle Ralph. There were cousins who would refuse to ride when Uncle Ralph got behind the wheel. :)

It's too bad I didn't get down to see him this last year when I was half living in Phoenix. Tuscon is a pretty short drive from where I spent my off time. Still, I know that my Uncle was a great guy. He deserves to have his life celebrated, just like we all should. He kept kicking until the end, and that's all anyone can do.

Just one of those nights

Pandora is being kind to me tonight. The music is soothing. My body is tired from climbing and running.

I know that I spray often about how good life is. It's unlikely that I'll stop any time soon.

My heart has been tugging at me to do a few things in the next year. They're hardly resolutions, just desires. Here goes:

Road/Climbing Trip - As long as the Trooper will hold up, I want to visit parts of Utah, Nevada, California, Arizona, Texas and Mexico and climb there. I want to live on the road. I can sleep in the car. I even bought a TomTom. I still need to find myself a portable stove of sorts, but I have food storage for several months and the motivation to climb.

Central America Trip - This one seems to be fading, but it will come back to me. I may be able to combine it with the road trip. If I end up in Texas, it would be a great jumping off point. South I shall go.

Anasazi - I want to work(ha!) for a couple weeks. I could use the quick money, yeah, but I really just want to go out, live in the woods, and see the miracles that happen on the trail. I'll go. There's no doubt.

It would be a shame for me to post this and none of the good songs that I've been listening to. So, enjoy some common, but good songs:

Ray

Denison

Wilco