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

Going to the Chapel

So, I went to Mormon church this week. 3 hours of church is a lot of Church. There's no way that's going to happen every week. Well, if you can stream video, here are a couple about the Mo's that I think are . . . enjoyable.

Mormon Axe commercial:


Extreme Mormons:

Bah Humbug? To whom it may concern . . .

I've debated writing this blog simply because I suspect it will generate a decent amount of flame, and it's going to be a promise that is not so easy to keep. Hear me out:

This year, 2008, I will not be giving or receiving gifts of commercial/monetary value. That will be firmly enforced, kept, whatever. Please. I kindly ask anyone who feels obligated or whatever need you feel, read the blog. It is my sincere, sincere desire to do this one time. Those who wouldn't have gotten me anything anyway, Thanks. Also, I invite you to consider what I have to say. Before this gets any real attention(like anyone really cares), let me plead my case a little.

First, this is a cheap experiment if nothing else. I've had 28 Christmases so far in this life. I suspect I'll have a few more. If I do this one time and it sucks, there's no real loss. It's immaterial. It will be forgotten and drowned out by all the other jolly holiday seasons throughout the rest of my life.

Second, and I'm beginning to think most importantly, "Xmas" has gotten way too commercial. Thanks for the insight, Charlie Brown. While from an economic standpoint, we need to spend to strengthen the economy . . . well, this seems like an ideal year to just go ahead and let the economy tank. After it bottoms out, we can all buy stock and wait for the next bubble. Anyway, I think think that separation of church, state, and economy is a good idea. I don't condone Mormons warping their religion and "beliefs" in profit seeking activities. It's follow the Prophet. Seriously, those of you who own "Sons of Helaman/Momma's Boys shirts and Greg Olsen paintings . . . really? Your muscles aren't that big, and Jesus was never that airbrushed. I'll offer some alternatives for gift giving at the end of the post, perhaps some that are more in line with gold, frankincense, and myrrh . . . or the mortal birth of a God.

Lastly, money is an issue. I'm doing alright. I have sufficient for my needs. I have learned a lot regarding money in the most recent period of my life. More than I learned in four years of college, and another four working in the corporate world. No matter how cliche, money and "things" do not equal happiness. Stop kidding yourselves. Think about all the times in your life that you were truly happy. If images of boats, big houses, and fancy clothes come to mind, readjust your priorities. Repent. If, however, hard work, family, friends, health, and contentment come to mind, I would invite you to look into where that happiness really came from. Debt and extravagance more than anything stem from love of money. They are killers, and true evils in our society. Those who build their enormous mansions as close to the Temple as possible should consider the humble beginnings, the simple life, and the sacrifice of the Savior. I declare that you mock him more through your vanity than the thief or the liar.

“The worst fear that I have about this people is that they will get rich in this country, forget God and His people, wax fat, and kick themselves out of the Church and go to hell. This people will stand mobbing, robbing, poverty, and all manner of persecution, and be true. But my greatest fear for them is that they cannot stand wealth; and yet they have to be tried with riches, for they will become the richest people on this earth” (Brigham Young, reported in James S. Brown, Life of a Pioneer [1900], 122-23).

Wow, that was a tangent . . .

I think that my experiment will be a huge success. Instead of material gifts, let's give each other time. Let's educate each other and lift each other up. Let's feed each other.

Finally, my gift requests:

Dad - I'd like to hear some stories about Uncle Val. I'd really like for you to climb with me down in Little Cottonwood Canyon. The winter is a great time as long as the sun is out, so next time you're down here plan on it.

Mom - I'd like some of your delicious food. I would also like for us to pick up an old family tradition that's been forgotten over the years(How the Grinch stole Christmas, pulling people out of snowbanks with the suburban, whatever.) Hell, I'll go sing to the neighbors with you.

Sisters - Hmm . . . I guess I'm going to sound like Dad on this one, but I just want you to be happy. One specific time when drama or disaster comes into your life, I want you to take a step back and just say, "I'm not going to let this get me down, and I'm doing it for Jason."

Brian - I want you to submit a bid to build my friends' house. I'll see about getting you a copy of the plans. I need to hear from you more often. Maybe you should come climb too. I bet you'd be better than me in no time.

Friends - Just be my friends. I'm grateful for all you do for me. There is no way I could be out of debt, and having as much fun in my life right now if it weren't for very good friends.

Merry Christmas!

Have some pictures:

Why I like cams

I really like my cams, and as I've explained before, they allow me to climb rocks without having someone else go up and place bolts.

A cam works by having at least two and up to four spring-loaded, rounded metal lobes(1) that oppose each other. The spring allows the lobes to be pulled in, by a trigger bar(3), making the cam head more narrow. Then the lobes are placed in a crack in the rock, they expand, and hold tight. A stem(2), either single or U-shaped, extends from the axle running between the lobes. The rope is clipped to this stem by a carabiner(4), often attached to a nylon sling(5).

When a climber falls, force is applied which pulls on the stem causing the lobes to expand even further. This outward pressure is transferred to the rock, and combined with friction in a good placement, the cam holds in place.

The rounded lobes are actually curved in a logarithmic spiral. This is important because it allows the outward pressure caused by the expanding lobes to always have the same angle. If the lobes were just circular round, the angle of the outward pressure would change depending on how far engaged the lobes were when placed in the rock. I'll go ahead and steal an illustration to help me explain this part.

(There are a lot of people who have explained this a lot better than I can.)



Here's a nice diagram that Metolius provides:


Anyway, this blog started out as a post about my first time falling on trad gear. Thing is, since I started this blog, I've fallen on the gear more than once, and the excitement and luster of trad virginity has slightly faded. Only slightly though. It's turning into trad love. I fell on the yellow TCU (Metolius "three-cam unit") on a climb called "Extreme Unction" in the most beautiful canyon in the Wasatch.That's Jerad getting ready to go up second and clean all my fancy cams up.

I fell again on a yellow TCU in the San Rafael Swell on a climb called "Anchors from Hell".
The picture doesn't do the climb any justice at all. The climb is a finger crack in a tight dihedral with scary moves up at the top. I actually fell just a little bit off the ground, but it was still nice to have the gear hold me off the deck.

I'm going to take the liberty of linking a photo that Adam (friend) took of Alex climbing on "Old Bushmill's" crack. I was actually able to climb this crack cleanly and didn't have to test any of the gear that I placed. (It would have held fine)

This crack is in a really wide dihedral and goes from rattly fingers up to big hands in size.

I climbed it twice before I felt like I was ready to lead it, and by then, it was the end of the day. I was sure shaky, and almost slipped out of the crack in a few places. It was exhilarating to get up there and clip the anchors. I almost hated to be lowered back down to the horizontal world. If anyone ever gets a chance to climb something like this, don't let it go. Crack climbing is dangerous and painful and so so rewarding.

Climb safe out there.

Price

Comes a Time

"Oh oh, This old world keeps spinning 'round.
It's a wonder tall trees ain't laying down.
There comes a time . . ."

Summer is a season for love. Fall is a season for solitude. There's something magical that happens in the air. It makes the leaves turn color, and makes every breath bite like crisp apples. Those leaves turn color because all the world is beautiful in the fall. They aren't preparing for winter. They love the fall, just like me, so they dress it up and make themselves pretty.

Some have questioned some of my decisions in the last few months . . . particularly regarding a relationship that ended. I'm content. My mind is not focused on careers or family, no matter how society, the Church, my parents or anyone else wants it. My mind constantly wanders to 5.12, how good the cold air feels in my breast, rhythm, classical guitars, the burning soreness in my arms. I wanted my drive home two nights ago to never end. 90.9 just kept giving me new wonderful flavors of music. The air blowing in my face was like kissing the prettiest girl.

I'm happy where I am, and I think back on the relationship I had. It was as perfect a relationship as anyone could have. No drama, no stress, lots of love and fun. So why did it end? It just did. Why did God decide to make fall such an amazing time to be alive? Things like this don't require explanation. They cannot because there is none. There just comes a time . . .


Just one more thing that puts fall head and shoulders above the rest. Climbing, of course. I climbed Mexican Crack (5.10a) in LCC today. I onsighted that climb. I placed cams and nuts, and thought that I would fall, but the cool air sucked the moisture off the rock and allowed my hands to stick. I never had to test the placements of my climbing gear, and I'm happy about that.

Mexican Crack is pretty easy to spot once you know where it is. It's the only crack on this rock. It diagonals up and left, if you are still lost. :)


Jared showing me the way . . . up.

To live a simple life is all I need. :)

Making a Tick List

So,

I try to keep track of all the rock climbing I do. It satisfies me to get home from climbing and immediately get on mountainproject.com to tick off the routes I've done.

I've recently started trad climbing which is an amazing new experience. I'd say it's nearly impossible to understand the difference until you've been out there and done it. It allows you to go places that weren't "designated". Uncharted territory is cool even if it's been done before and is in all the guide books and has anchor chains at the top. There's just something about it. Comparison: Rock Band vs. playing guitar - Both quite satisfying, only one feels real.

That being said, I've also climbed in the gym a lot lately which has made me strong. Kind of like playing lots and lots of air guitar. (stole photo/Sharma dab)























Here are some of the places I've climbed over the last 6 months or so. (many pictures linked/stolen)

Grand Teton, WY:




























Wind River Range, WY:



















Near Mesquite, NV:






























Wasatch Range, UT:



















Moab, UT:





























City of Rocks, ID:

(I stole Moab and Big Cottonwood)