One Greatest Day

Wednesdays forecast, through word of mouth called for precipitation, but as I roused at 7:30 am, promising Matt to meet him for a day of climbing, a cloud couldn't be seen. I made an amazing breakfast, melting cheese into egg and then onto a peanut buttered with beacon bagel, to create the ultimate breakfast sandwich. I drank tea by the creek, in a perfectly shaped rock chair, reading a book. As I finished a chapter, with great timing, I heard Matt stroll up. We headed for a good warm up of highballs and slab, then headed for his project (Soul Slinger). We spent some time there trying it, me stubbornly trying my own beta. With one burn to go Matt coaxed me to try the 'regular' beta, "It's good to stick to beta, but keep an open mind". I did it that go and for the rest of the day insisted to everyone it was easy, having Gordo giving me a hard time after he later attempted it, "have you done this slab Thomas?" "Oh, is it easy?"

Matt and I meandered back to my camp to enjoy a restful lunch, I made a grilled cheese with ham, onion and mushrooms. We had green tea with goji berries Matt happened to have. At this time, the wind that was keeping the sending temps around all morning picked up and a storm front began to build over western mountains. We warmed back up and tried a few climbs before clouds and snow engulfed the Butter Milks (though Gordo reasoned me into trying one more climb as tomorrow was a rest day, we were warm and he was psyched).

As the Snow fell harder I wondered alone south down the path to my creek side camp when startled in front of me, the largest group of deer I've seen, standing shoulder to shoulder. Thirty plus deer mostly mule with the odd buck, all stood staring right at me. I stopped and observed them for some time. They move north around me slowly, at one point spooked by some other course, half the group bounded quickly off. I gathered dinner and cooked from the door of my tent. Snow continues softly.

10 Years

Today, the last day of February, I spent exploring the town of Bishop. I found my friends from Hueco (down at the happies), edited some photos of Red Rocks (that I'm a little behind on), found the library closed and bought a mantel for my lantern and groceries. After Two months on the road all is well, the truck is still running (yet a hole in the tale exhaust is making it sound more "hard core" than usual), my elbow though bothersome for a few days last week feels good with warmth, trammel, tiger balm, a brace and care. For my first dinner with out James I had Pork steak (with Dijon), with beer caramelized onions and mushrooms, jalapeno cheese bread and a carrot. After Camping with friends the past couple weeks it feels strange to camp alone, its quiet (when I'm Not talking to myself) but nice. tomorrow I will be moving to the butter milks to join friends, though I don't mind the pit for $2 per night (once you see the Butter milks in the morning fuck anywhere else - paid or otherwise). Tomorrow Marks a decade of climbing for me and I'm more than ecstatic to spend it in the Bishop Butter Milks. Hopefully it is a good day, if not... no matter there is more. Now where is that Trammel for my elbow.
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It was a good day by the way... I ran a round doing moderates all day getting reacquainted with granite and big top outs... my fingers got trashed... blasted two weeks of sand stone made my tips a bitch.

"Is That All's Ya'lls"

Las Vegas boiled and froze, stormed and was perfect, but as we exited the Red Rocks Casino breakfast buffet it threatened to rain once more. After receiving a blue slip for overstaying our welcome of 14 days (the sheet read something like - to prevent homelessness please kindly fucking vacate). I dropped James off at the Sin City Hostel (for his flight to Chile March 5th) on Las Vegas Boulevard and headed North on the 95. The mountains faded into low lying cloud as I pass through multiply storm fronts. After passing the highest point in Nevada, Boundary Peak, which I couldn't see due to low cloud. I went through California State line, where upon I was interrogated by a pleasant old man who stated he felt good for his age. Bishop was wet but stars shown by bed time and the magnificent peaks to the west began to reveal themselves to me.

The Ghetto of a Thousand Rules.

North, twenty six miles out of El Paso down highway sixty two, there is a turn off at a space craft shaped real-estate building.This road winds and dips its way out into the flats of a desert landscape between rolling hills, as if from no were lie’s an out cropping of rock only several dozen acres in size, Hueco Tanks State Park. Just before the entrance gates were climber vehicles and sometimes tourists line up each morning to get in (on days you are void of reservations), turns left an ever deteriorating road. To the Hueco Rock Ranch it makes its way along the flats a five minute drive from the park. Here behind a house and barn were climber gather each evening, is a several acre “camp ground”, if you will (more just dirt flats with two roads and dispersed vegetation). If you sit on the ground all you see are the few bushes around you, the top parts of the barn and house and tops of the two “large” peaks that are North and West mountain of the park, if you stand up you see for miles in every direction, even with small glimpses of Mexico.

In the back east corner I find myself huddle under a blanket in my tent listening to the intermittent rain and howling northern winds cutting at my 14+ old Outbound tent. Today is a forced rest day (like all the others I’ve taken, forced by rain and a day of snow - good thing the desert is so dry), but much needed as I have climbed 13 of the last 16 or so days and my body screams with fatigue.

This morning I woke to the sound of a giant flag howling in the wind above my head and an unusual amount of light entering my tent. I rose to discover my fly half off flapping dangerously in the wind, as it threatened to blow away. I quickly dressed and ran out in the biting cold to peg the fly now with 5 extra guy lines. I sat huddled in my tent reading until my stomach could take no more. I went out to grab my coffee and oatmeal, set up my mini stove (in vestibule) to discover a missing crucial piece to my stove. Out in the wind I attempted to cook on the big stove, hunkered in the back of the truck to make a peanut butter burrito up against the duck tape back window, thanks to a mishap yesterday which ended with me putting a ski pole through the glass, to poor results I now consuming runny oats in my tent.

On any other day we climb in perfect temperatures which continue to get warmer, when void of this northern wind. In the evenings we eat then head to the barn to play table tennis and soccer, enjoy a card game, a beer and new friends. When we tire of these activities there is an endless supply of pallet fires to warm the soul, and stories of the days before, injuries, which there are a few of at this moment (including my pinkie finger which its pulley decided to explode a week of so ago - which only affects few moments). With all that there is still nothing to complain about, life is good. I’m enjoying the company of four books right now, and some new films I’ve picked up.

Peace and Love,
Teacozy

Living The Dream

It was early in the park, a still eeriness filled our surrounding as it braced for the onslaught of climbers. It was warm enough so that warming up in the shade was pleasant. Allowing a better monitor on the progress of muscles and blood flow warming and not just the pleasantry of the sun pouncing from your skin. We were well warmed and had accomplish much ground by the time the parking lot began to teem with smelly climbers. We wondered the high points of North Mountain by the guidance of Tim, pointing out the classics as we made our way to the south edge of the mountain to climb a new route. Blood Line is a gorgeous streaking tufa running to the base of a gully.

The next morning I roused from a deep sleep with the feeling of accomplishment rolling over my muscles and tingling at my finger tips. “Here” I said, out of my tent I passed James an item.

“Oh thanks, but how’d you know I needed that.” “You asked for it, No?” “No.”

Hmm, it really had only been a dream, I turned to see the sun rising over Hueco Tanks, I was really here.

Sharp In The Desert

The wind howled as we packed our tents and the last of our things in the truck. I left my mark on the outhouse and we were off. The previous week had been calm clouds traced the horizon and burned away, jets over head gouged the sky, sometimes leaving scars for hours. The wind had picked up the day before forcing us to climb in our jackets, but it was an acceptable change as our stays weather was more than accompanying. Unlike the weather the bouldering was harsh on the skin ripping and tearing away at the flesh. well traveled routes if polished became a struggle, the polished rock difficult to hold. A conundrum that left the mind beaten and your finger tips worn.

The expanse of the desert of Joshua Tree National Park is mind boggling, one would wonder out into the desert tripping through the Doctor Seuss like trees for days lost and allow. the rock follows the flat lands dispersed and concentrated around rolling hills. Climbing all day and never seeing another soul is expected, unless fortune grants you a glimpse of a coyote trotting passed, unaffected by your odd presence to his home.

Many come to the desert the view is beauty, but I suspect few have the chance to truly connect with it. The day passers and strangely enough a diamond company photo shut use it as a back drop to there existence and leave affected by its immortal powers.

If the route grades are stiff then the rules of the boulders were set down by the desert gods themselves, stiffer than mortality, harder than the stone itself. If you are expecting to join the ranks of the immortals, be prepared to leave beaten and defeated, but if you expect to learn nothing of your experiences your heart is full of foolishness.

The hidden valley camp ground is for sure the place to stay, the people there are friendly and always willing to share. As for the climbing a great place to loose your breath is The Real hidden Valley, and the bouldering of Turtle Rock is tall and proud as for a route to lay pads down for, the White Rastafarian is the name of the game.

Coyote Poop and Peyote Stools

The temps in Joshua Tree are perfect today. It’s a beautiful saturday in the sun. I’m sitting here eating lunch in the boulders with a cut on my thumb (cutting onions first night), a hole in my pinky and another on my pointer finger from two separate start crimps. Plus a sprained second toe on my left foot from an awkward fall friday (it’s already feels 50% better today, but still a little swollen). the most important thing is my elbow feel great.
We took two days to get here arriving just after midnight after a 16 hour drive and a 14 hours day before with four hours sleep. So the boarder didn’t give us too much trouble, we had to go inside while they attempted to look through our over packed truck. The fat and lazy boarder guard could not understand how we could leave our work and lives behinds to camp in the desert for 5 months, but he was nice about it and let us go without ripping the car a part.
The first day drive was interesting with lots of rain on and off. we headed to the coast from Eurika to check the sand dunes out. At night fall we booked it to california through Arcata finding a camp ground in red wood park (but not before I almost crashed into a big ass mofo 6 point buck just chilling on the side of the road. We woke up at 4:30, dodging the camping fee and headed for San Francisco by ten. We continued the coast drive from there to LA, probably the most beautiful stretch of road I’ve ever seen.
Now we share a camp site with a great guy name Dave from colorado (or Wyoming or Arizona). The camp grounds full, but running into someone in the desert during the day in uncommon.
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Now Sunday, it’s our rest day, before three more days of fun here. Then off to El Paso. I’ll find some time to post some photos and interesting stories soon.
Peace and Love
Teacozy