Webster Art

Health Scare or if you prefer: (skip to climbing)

Before I left town I fell off my 1972 ten speed twice in 3 days. Once I was zig zagging up a steep hill. My tire slipped and down I went. Another time I was pressing a crosswalk button. Both times I’d expected my foot to come out of the toeclip and it didn’t. I need to go back to flat pedals since I never pull up anymore. Or remake my bike shoes. I need to have the shoe metal embedded, instead of protruding.

Unbeknownst to me, I bruised the inside of my lower leg in the calf muscle, up against the bone. I swelled up a third bigger than normal. (took a month to heal) Clint said I should get it looked at. “You could get a clot that could travel to your lungs and kill you.”

I went to Urgent Care. They did an Ultrasound and said the baby looked fine but they were still looking at the X-ray. Finally the doctor came in and asked: “Have you ever had cancer?” When I said no he said he’d seen something that looked like evidence of cancer in the bone and that I needed to have it looked at further.

“It might be cancer, or it might not. I don’t have enough information since I can only see the one leg x-ray.”

I was supposed to leave on this climbing trip on the eighth but they were able to schedule an MRI on the ninth. I got the MRI on my still swollen (hematoma) left calf at 7AM then left for Utah at 10AM. I was like fuck it, if I’m going to die, at least I’ll get some climbing in first. Or, as Fletch put it: “First things first, priorities.”

By the morning of the 10th I was driving somewhere north of Salt Lake City when I saw a new My Chart message come in. It was the MRI report from the radiologist. Our doctor left the practice so we’ve been seeing a variety of stand in people: PA’s, new rotating doctors, phone visits. Seeing a real doctor in the flesh is like scheduling a visit with the Pope.

Fortunately I am friends or related to 4 different doctors and a dozen nurses, including my kids. I texted the MRI report to several of them from a windy gas station and waited. They all confirmed what I had concluded: I was fine, case closed.

I pulled into Creek Pasture to find Fletch in site 21. It is a very quiet site far from the noisy party areas. We began to meet his Santa Barbara friend Peggy every morning at the Meat Basin outhouse. This has become the informal meeting place for folks camped up the basin, or really anywhere. It reminds me of the Camp 4 bulletin board, and without cell service it is the only way to communicate for many climbers. NOTE: AT&T has weak service at both Super Bowl and Creek Pasture campgrounds, and the Donelly parking lot.

Peggy, Fletch and I all know Julian and Maria from last summer in Leavy. Through him we met the rest of his Access Fund trail crew: Adam, James and crew leader Jeff. They all like small hands cracks, which began my week of frustration. Every crag we went to featured cracks that fit them, but not me.

4-11-2025 Fern Gully on day 1. Peggy took us to this new crag. I think you park at Fist Fight then walk North. When you are at Fern Gully, you are looking directly across to the North at Hot Sex 5.9 on Nuclear Wall. Fletch led a red splitter called Got you Cornered.

I led – aided a fist crack to the right. It has a name but I don’t have the new book and it’s not on Mountain Project. There is a bigger than fist overhang at the top which Fletch had to finish for me. I aided it twice this trip. The second time I took four number fours and found the French freeing easier.

4-12-2025 Fist Fight Wall. As it was only day 2 I was very hesitant to lead the name sake route called Fist Fight crack. There had been no time to build creek power. But there I was standing at the base of a crack almost as pretty as Super Crack. It was definitely my size and we had a dozen blues and plenty of yellows. I knew it was perfectly safe. There was no compelling reason not to climb it. But still, day 2!

Fletch: We’re right here looking at it. It’s your size, we have the gear. You kind of have to climb it.

Me: I know, it’s obviously got my name on it. Will you rescue me if I can’t finish it?

I fought the good fight up about 50 feet and ran out of juice. It was blue cups with a couple yellows and number 4’s. I lowered off and Fletch bravely went up and finished it for me. Neither of us got it clean. It’s eleven blues arcing up and left. Your right foot is useless. The crack doesn’t see much traffic and is very sharp. Both Fletch and I had some bad road rash scars for the next month. I need to invent leather climbing gauntlets, or just tape my wrists and forearms.

4-13-2025 was a rest day. We found some cool petroglyphs North? of Newspaper rock at the square rock above the creek where you can bathe. In town we shopped and took showers.

4-14-2025 Trick or Treat wall was better on this, my third visit. I bailed on the Pony Crack right of Horse. I just ran out of rattly finger jam power. It didn’t help that I wasn’t jamming my left toe. Adam followed it nicely jamming both toes in like a real crack climber.

I passed on TR laps on Horse and Zits. My bicep injury needed a break from red hauling. Adam led the hands to off width right of Zits. A five will fit at the top. I got up it with a couple falls.

A note on Top Roping
On my previous trip in 2023 where I hooked up with a Squamish guide and friends, not only were they climbing 5.11 tight hands, they were getting on twelves. Naturally, I did a lot of top roping, more than on this trip. It’s not a coincidence that I became much stronger on that trip than this one. OK, possibly it’s because that was pre long covid (PMR) and I was only 67 instead of 71? For example I could have easily top roped Horse, and some elevens at Sparks. Fletch was grabbing all kinds of top ropes. I need to loose some pride and gain some power.

To the left of Horse is a lovely fist crack that I followed. It starts with a few reds that are easily avoided with great feet. You could place a 5 at the top plus a bunch of yellows and blues and a 4 or two. I’d like to lead this. I also followed a nice but vertical hand crack around the corner to the left. It starts with a bouldery move on a rectangular block. I need to lead that on a strong day.

At the car, Peggy, Fletch, Julian, Adam and I sat around in that companionable mood one gets after a long fun day of climbing. We were sitting in the gravel and dirt of the shoulder. Occasional cars would whiz by but we paid them no mind, enjoying the perfection of the moment. I could tell a couple of us thought about leaving to make dinner but the vibe was so perfect none of us made the move.

It’s magical when a group of friends is so well tuned into the same wavelength. I vividly remember that happening with Paul, Sue, Kathy and Lemon back in 1978 almost fifty years ago. No one has any cares about being elsewhere or regrets about the day. It’s perfection in the moment and seems to transcend time. Like a bunch of cavemen who just feasted on a juicy buffalo after a long hunt. But the climber version.

4-15-2025 Sparks wall was another matter entirely.  I tried to lead a ten minus called Sparkling Zygote. It is listed as a warmup but starts with a Bombay chimney into 5 feet of reds that I could not climb. I could have aided through, maybe should have, but chose to descend.

Fletch took over and promptly French freed the fuck out of the same section before getting to some nice hands. Red climbers should be required to wear a red badge on their shirt. This would serve to warn us yellow and blue climber not to follow them to their favorite crags. It’s not that the creek is all reds, it’s just that red climbers go to red crags. And sometimes those crags are predominantly, even exclusively reds or tighter. 

Fletch got on a bunch of TR’s and had fun. He does’t have to worry about a strained bicep. We bailed at 3:30 and just had time to move camp from 21 to 26 where there is room for 3 cars. Lisa and Brian are rolling in today or tomorrow unless they divert to red rocks like Joan. We are looking at some sketchy weather in the next few days. 

When we first arrived at Peggy’s 15 year old Bridger Jacks campsite it was just her doing yoga on the slick rock. In half an hour Adam pulled up in a Subie with James and Julian. Peggy was quizzing them about all the cool climbs they’d led. There were ropes on everything, including Go Sparky Go, Scenic View and Jupiter  Crack which Mike led and Jeff followed. Jeff is the trail crew boss.

Jeff talked about how the Access Fund used to hire couples like Kyle and Lauryn for the season  but that caused trouble when they broke up half way through (K & L are fine). Kind of like hiring married lighthouse workers who didn’t get along. 

They have recently gone to a system more universal to other Forest and Park services where they have a crew boss (Jeff) and a small crew of workers: James, Julian and Adam. Instead of giving them a badged Van, they give them a badged Ford pickup and a large tent. They’ve been on the job since February. Julian said they’ve seen all kinds of weather from snow to a hailstorm that cracked his windshield. 

He had recently badly bruised his finger when a boulder rolled the wrong way. I suggested armored gloves like knights in shining armor. I sketched out a metal three sided cave for each finger joint. Probably there is already something on Amazon.

Anyway, while  all that was going on I walked up to Julian and held my Meatloaf painting out. Everyone there knows and loves Meatloaf. Peggy was there when Maria decided to buy a kitten for her thirtieth. 

Both Maria and Julian had left when the rain started. That was when I got this laptop in Grand Junction and started in on the painting. I didn’t have Maria’s number then so I sent Julian the pen underdrawing. Later I sent the full painting to Maria as a printable Tiff.

But yesterday, Julian hadn’t seen the finished full color painting. As his eyes came down to my little color sketch they lit up in recognition and wonder. 

Several of them commented on the perfection of the eyes and the mouth.

“That looks just like Meatloaf!!”

I also showed them my oil portrait of Clint. Who isn’t proud of their son? I am supremely lucky to have the gift of portrait painting. Fletch stared at it in wide eyed wonder. He has met Clint may times back when Craig and Clint were actively climbing together.

But to see him now at 40, painted in exquisite oils must have been startling. 

“Do you recognize him?”

“Absolutely I do!”

“Meatloaf was a training exercise for these family portraits.”

The smokey campfire of a dozen trail workers and friends of Peggy had been noisy as we played a few instrumentals like Beiber and Brazilian Swing. Folks expect campfire players to be mediocre and primarily background noise, like an iphone speaker.

I suggested Carolina to Fletch and he said sure.

As I put the harp brace on my neck Aiden (leads twelves: Moonlight Buttress) asked: “Is that a harp holder, like Bob Dylan? Wow, is that magnetic?”

I explained to Adam that we’d do two instrumental verses before starting in on the words, then another instrumental after the first chorus. I said nothing to Fletch as we’ve been playing this for 10 years. 

As I started in on the first verse, blowing the harp while fingerpicking the chords, accompanied by Fletch and Adam I heard the voices around the campfire quickly die down. The silence of the star filled desert sky seemed to welcome our melody.

Like the ancient Anasazi Indians we sang to the beauty of a simple life full of love and wonder. The song is about Ryan Adams trying find meaning on the road while missing family at home. I couldn’t take my eyes from the music, but I sensed a great stillness around the campfire as they lost interest in their conversations and began to focus on the words and melody of the beautiful song.  Performers can read an audience intuitively and I saw that they were with us. 

After the chorus, with both Fletch and Adam backing me I launched into an instrumental verse with our 3 guitars  while my harp sang out in perfect tune to the soul searching melody. I played single notes and up to 3 at a time reveling in the mysterious diatonic harmony chasing the melody through the chords.   

At the end there was silence.  I think we were all a little shocked at what we had created. Peggy the birthday girl asked: “Did you write that Mark?”

“No, that’s Ryan Adams”

“Huh, I’ve never heard of him.”

“It’s a 20 year old song. I can’t write for shit.”

We played a few more after that. Both Fletch and Adam played a solo song. It was lovely to hear their voices. Because I’m deaf in one ear (thanks to Menieres) it’s hard to hear my fellow musicians. My own sound fills up what little hearing I have. I have IEM’s but rarely get them out around campfire jams.

It was getting late after a full day of climbing so the party began winding down. As I was carrying my guitar away from the still smoking campfire, Nathan waved me down:

“Thank you so much for playing! That completed everything I’d dreamed an Indian Creek trip should be. This great day of climbing couldn’t have been any better and your music was the perfect end to my day.”

4-17-25 Pregnant Woman Cliff. I found a nice unnamed 5.9 at the top of the trail. We started from a wide parking spot where a washout has almost taken out the road. It’s the only bad spot on the Pistol Whipped end. I pulled the Tundra in to the pullout on the left where a few cars can fit. From the 5.9, we had to walk at least 40 minutes left along the cliff base to get to Lichen Vacation. It would be better to park at the T intersection at the Willows campground. Then walk right a block and take the trail directly up to LV, which is a lovely 10 that requires either an 80meter or two ropes. It’s all hands except a couple short red sections.

When Fletch and I got back to camp the wind was blowing crazy. It knocked down Fletches tent so we took it apart as he can sleep in his Prius. The rain started that night. 

We were snacking on chips and wine in the front of my Tundra while the rain poured out of a black sky. Wind gusted curtains of sand down the road. Not a soul was moving so I was surprised to see a dark Tacoma driving the lower loop by site seven. Because it looked gray I didn’t think it was Lisa and Brian. But it quickly looped around the end and headed directly  toward us. As it got closer it resolved into a blue Tacoma just like Lisa’s. When I saw the Washington license plates I said: “That’s Lisa!” Fletch said: “It can’t be, they won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

But then we both saw Lisa waving in the passenger seat. We jumped out for a warm reunion. Lisa is one of Fletches ex’s. Fletch helped her set up her Match profile. She brought Brian to our guitarbcue and he immediately fit right in with his refined trumpet riffs. Lately he has been my climbing gym partner at Edgeworks. Lisa and Brian had joined me and Fletch there in 2021.

We pointed Lisa’s open tailgate to leeward and all 4 squeezed in for chips, salsa and beer. I’m not sure how it happened but Brian started telling stories about his life long career as a firefighter. His tone was very matter of fact as he described some of his more horrific calls. I would have felt very fortunate to have Captain Brian and his crew at my house or car wreck. We sat there for a couple hours as the wind and rain lashed the desert outside her little Tacoma  canopy. It was four good friends going back at least 15 years, sitting out a storm in a tiny pickup bed. Another timeless moment.

Friday was clearly a rest day so we carpooled in the Prius to Moab and got showers and a pizza at the food truck court. 

Saturday 4-19-2025. Sadly Fletch had to go back to work and left at dawn. Brian, Lisa and I had a lazy morning and drove to Donnelly. There were a few people walking up toward cave route but the lot was mostly deserted with a handwritten sign saying the rock is too wet to climb. 

I could have easily taken another day off but Lisa and Brian only had Friday to Wednesday. By noon the parking lot dirt was looking much drier so we drove to Blue Gamma which was packed with at least a dozen cars. They were running a crack climbing clinic with 10 clients at $700 each for 3 days. It’s normally 1500 each but they had a corporate sponsor (BD?).

They had ropes on every route so we jumped on something that looked seven-ish but turned out to be nine. Lisa tried the boulder start but backed off. I pulled on a cam to get my knee up and was off to the races. 

After we’d all climbed it I walked down to the #3 open book called Mexican Unicorn. There was a static line for a jumaring ‘crack advisor’ and several students top roping . 

“Hey, we were hoping to lead this at some point today. Are you all going to be a couple more hours?”

One of the guides immediately realized they’d been monopolizing the crag and apologized.

“We have no right to take over this crag for the whole day. It’s meant to be for everyone. Give us five minutes and we’ll pull our ropes off to the side so you guys can lead it.” I was surprised to hear that. I wish more guides were this courteous.

She and I started talking after that and it turned out she lived in Moab (formerly from Brazil) and knew my old friend Ammon McNeely (may he rest in peace). They were running a top notch show and giving excellent instruction. Later as we were walking out the lead guide offered to let Lisa TR a left facing finger dihedral. He even offered 5 minutes of tips. Those guys rocked! We had the often repeated conversation about how Indian Creek was the best crack climbing in the world. Several people agreed but their main guide countered with American Fork. He said it’s very slick there, unlike this sticky sandstone.

Joan and Meg arrived that day. They are friends I met through the Over Fifty group on Mountain project.

Sunday Easter 4-20 we went to Chocolate corner where we waited almost two hours for an idiotic female guide to finish coaching two beginners. They had no business tying up such a popular route. When the two beginners finally finished she said they were headed towards Generic which is an equally popular route they had no business climbing. I think I avoided being a dick about the guides bad choices but geez! She should have taken them to some out of the way crag where they would’t get in anyones way. It’s common sense. Blue Gamma is a great example. It’s not a highly desirable crag and hence a good choice for large groups of students. 

Sunday 4-20-2025 we went to Twin Cracks where Joan backed off at the stuck knee section. Lisa finished it and I also led it for my first clean creak lead. We also did Christines little nine, which Joan didn’t like. Meg finished that one. I felt bad about Joan getting shut down. I’d promised her cracks she would fall in love with but kept striking out.

I led Amaretto corner again, not clean. For 5.9 that top #5 finish is just impossible. Too small for butterfly and too big for fists, plus it flares and overhangs. The girls were very brave and kind. They insisted they didn’t mind me leading something that clearly didn’t fit them.

Monday 4-21 … or was it Tuesday? I may have lost a day. We went to Fern Gully for the second time this trip. Peggy had taken me and Fletch there a week earlier. I hung dog my way up the fist crack. At the roof I had four fours and managed to aid through. I also led-aided Devin Fin’s new fist crack called Soul. It was fat steeples, too tight for fists until halfway when it turned into perfect fists. It was Chocolate Corner for fists and super fun for the last half. 

The 3 girls had teamed up to climb a red corner that I’d already done. That worked well. They got their hand size and Brian and I teamed up on the fist crack.

Wednesday 4-23-25 Lisa, Brian, Meg and Joan all left at noon. I tried to get excited about painting but after 4 days of climbing it felt like work. I had a beer at 2 and napped in the baking truck until 5. 

Thursday 4-24-25 painted badly at Scarface looking west. Halfway through I broke for lunch. I got partway through a nine dollar package of smoked salmon and decided to eat it at my easel, out of sight and down a hill. The sun and wind must have baked my brain because when I gave up on the train wreck a few hours later and walked back to the truck the gate was wide open. My expensive full frame camera was sitting easy to grab as well as everything not locked down, like my guitar, sleeping cooking  stuff and all of Chris and Julia’s gear. There were only 4 cars in the lot, including Devin and Mike . Mike is a twelve leader and friends with Jeff the trail boss.

Thursday pm I drove to GearHeads and bought a nine liter gas can for $89. It’s totally leak proof and based off the famous ultra durable Jerry can invented by the Germans in WW2. I slept that night above Moab at the formerly free BLM road…willow springs? It’s now a Park with a new entrance and visitor center called dinosaur something. 

Friday 4-25 I came in late at twilight and left at dawn arriving at Islands in the Sky 7 AM where I took a 2 hour nap. I hiked 2Km up to Window Arch where I painted until 5. I started with monotone brown. It’s a great base color and similar to pencil in that there is no scary color decisions. Some tourists said it was gorgeous. I should have stopped but instead added color. The wind began whipping at 40 knots which tossed my turpentine can off the 300 foot cliff. My hat followed but stopped right at the edge. I carefully crept down the sloping sandy cliff top and rescued my hand built leather cowboy hat. Felt silly risking my life for a hat. 

The sand got all up in my palette, brushes and painting. I guess it’s now a sand painting. My nice new Rosemary brushes felt like wire brushes due to all the sand. With my solvent gone I couldn’t clean the brushes until Beef Basin two hours later. 

Saturday 4-26 I knew that I’d climb 5 days in a row starting Monday, so I decided to climb Saturday with Sunday off. I drove to climber coffee hosted by Kaitlyn and Elum (prefers she pronouns). Kaitlyn is a perfect host, well, they both are, but she has the more vivacious personality. They both loved my sandy painting. 

She was curious when I walked up with my cup and a board. I watched her eyes glance down at the board several times. She didn’t know what it was but could tell it was important. She was kind to be so enthusiastic about it even though it probably sucked. I was frustrated at depicting all the complex browns. Painting the desert is a bit like portraiture of a very wrinkled face. It’s all shades of brown and tan and I struggle to make them pretty. 

At 11 and again 12 Peggy showed up, second time with Travis and Gus, they on mountain bikes. They beat me to Optimator parking lot where 24 vehicles were packed in like sardines. I had to drive up to the top which was super sketchy. Gus led Mudslide after a party of 3 finished. There were at least a dozen or more dogs running everywhere. None were mean but that’s just ridiculous. What is wrong with all these humans who require dogs to make life worth living? Or put another way, what is wrong with me that I don’t want a dog?

Travis easily led Soulfire which they all topped. I passed. Reds suck. Eight years ago I followed Daphne and mostly got it clean except the green top. I led the 5.8 flake off right of Mudslide. My chest got stuck repeatedly in the flake to chimney transfer move. I had to blow out a hard breath and shimmy into the tunnel. I could only take shallow breaths because of the constriction. Meanwhile I was desperately trying to shimmy up and left to where it opened up to a normal body slot. But I couldn’t move or breath. No one could have reached me for a rescue. I felt like I was going die in there. Man, never again!!!

Peggy wisely chose not to follow so I met a guy on a nearby route who said his buddy Noah would clean it for me. Noah, 19, loved the route. He was young and slender.

After my new friend Noah rapped down I tossed my rope and followed. We were talking about about how tight the squeeze chimney was at the sideways transfer. I mentioned that I thought my man boobs were half the problem. After some laughter the girl Ella said: “So I wonder if there is an optimal boob size for the squeeze?”

I looked down at my old man boobs and said: “Smaller than these!!”

Sunday rest day, April 27. 5 months later the side effects of 15 months on prednisone are finally wearing off. Also my hematoma bruise is almost all gone. Damn that was a month long shit show, cancer scare, MRI and all.

Super Bowl site 25 has spotty voice service but very weak data. Talked to Sue for an hour. It was nice to hear her rambling on about all the shit she has to deal with regarding grandkids, kids and her mom. Me being gone for a month is not helping. 

Massive grey clouds with an angry wind is threatening climbing tomorrow, Julia’s first day. Shit weather can be the death knell of these 5 day Alaska Airline trips the girls are booking. Being down here a month means a few days of rain is kind of fun. It’s some pleasant drama instead of the endless baking blue sky, chasing shade and spankings on red cracks. 

I’m stuffed with a concoction of rice, tuna, brocoli Alfredo sauce and cheese. It’s dark and howling outside but my little Tundra shell is cozy and dry. I got the lights on and this new MacBook is the cat’s meow.

Monday April 28 was Julia’s first day. We hiked out to Habitado where I hung dog my way up Lightning Crack and the 8 to its’ left. I had been too lazy to carry out all my big cams. A couple nice girls towed our rope up so we could top rope Mariposa. We had planned on doing that ourselves but they had been on it for several hours doing multiple hangdog leads and repeated laps. No one was there but us, but still…it seemed bad form to monopolize a route. Not that anyone cares what I think. I’m clearly in the minority with my traditional views from last century.

Julia had the usual problems off width newbies have there. When I got on it I finally found the solution to the 4 foot tall 11 inch pod. On lead I place either the green big bro or valley giant there, very insecure. On TR I was able to experiment and found a wonderful right arm chicken wing. It was the classic elbow high chicken wing and locked in tight. With that holding me in I was able to maneuver my feet into some marginal heel toe jams. This let me push with my legs and slide up my chicken wing. A couple repetitions of that got me up into first hand fist stack. On lead this is a #5 placement.

Yarding my out of the pod felt great. Soon I had a levitation jam and a no hands rest. I did have to lower my knee pad. It makes my knee too fat. Julia and some bystanders were impressed as I chalked up both hands. Higher up it got wider but I was still getting at least good double fists. There was a 4 foot section where I was thrashing a bit with my heel toe technique. As I fell out, I felt the rope go tight.

An honest man would have told Julia to give me slack. That would have forced me to sort out the feet. However, I calmly let her hold me as I moved up the double fist. Someday I’ll get that clean, at least on top rope.

Tuesday April 29 We climbed Triple Jeopardy. It’s really fun tunnel problem. While there we talked with a gregarious 75 year old former climber. He was there with his 19 year old son and some other family and friends. With his extensive knowledge of the Creek I could tell he was SomeBody. Us old dudes are thin on the ground and I’ve either met or heard of all the old climbers on this side of the continent. Finally I asked him his name and he said it was Jimmy Dunn.

Me: Holy shit dude, you’re a legend!

Jimmy: Nah, I’m just an old dirt bag. I did do a lot of first ascents though. I did the first ascent of Generic Crack in 1976. That was long before cams so I had to runout the entire second pitch. At the last move over the edge I was so far above my last piece I would have decked. I put in a one quarter inch bolt. As I pulled the last move my partner hollered up that my new bolt had just hit him in the lap.

We talked about jobs and he said he’d never been good at working. Climbing was the only thing he’d ever been good at.

Jimmy: We called ourselves the Conquistadores of the Useless! I did run a contracting business for a while and made some good money. I sold all my climbing gear and didn’t climb for 10 years. But I hated that job and went back to climbing.

When I mentioned that I had worked blue collar most of my life and raised a couple nurses he was duly impressed.

Jimmy: Dude, you’re somebody. I can tell. You say you’re nobody as a climber but I can tell you got it going on. I don’t climb much anymore, my shoulder hurts. But you, look at you, you’re still getting after it!

When he mentioned his wife was a sculptor I showed him some of my work on my phone. He loved my portraits of Sue and the cow.

We traded numbers and he said I had to stay at his house if I came to Colorado. He was very impressed with Julia and what he called “Your harem of young ladies!” It is puzzling why I rarely climb with guys. I’ve got guy partners, but they’re always working. Julia, Meg, Joan, Lisa G, Christine…they are all either retired or able to take time off. Seems like my guy friends are either working full time (Chad) or taking vacations with their families and not me (Alex).

Anyway it was super cool to hang out with a legend like Jimmy Dunn. It was like running into Chouinard. And the guy was so gregarious….just a super friendly older climber.

Afterward we walked over to Twin Cracks but there was a Steph Davis crack clinic going on. One of the leaders looked a bit familiar in his nice straw cowboy hat. When he said they’d be a while with many people TR’ing I said I’d just do the next route to the left, meaning the one to the left of Triple Jeopardy. He gave me a funny look as I walked away.

That route is called No Name crack. Some refer to it as 4AM crack.

I really liked No Name. I had about 7 blues, 5 yellows and two reds for the top. It’s never unclimbable. But it’s long. As she lowered me off we both had to anchor into a cam 5 feet up when the rope ended. I climbed it strongly but kept running out of juice. Must have hung 4 times. That’s the thing about leading at the creek with white hair. I’ve got the skills and technique but the stamina of an old man. If I could just force myself to do 20 pull-ups every day I might change that. But pull-ups hurt my shoulders. It’s a catch 22. Every time I’d take to catch my breath the crack was perfect hands.

Me: I feel so bad hanging here, the crack is perfect but I’m so tired!

Julia: No worries, it’s hot down here too. Take your time.

Julia was a real trooper cleaning my lead. The girl can get up anything. That was definitely not her hand size but she got to the anchor just fine.

After rapping down I kept hearing a very familiar voice coaching the students in the Steph Davis clinic. I scrambled up to where I could see his face.

Me: You sound very familiar but I don’t recognize your face. Have we met…or are you SomeBody?

Chris Kalous: Yeah, I get that a lot. I run a couple podcasts called Enormocast and “The Runout” with Andrew Bisharat. Everyone knows my voice.

Me: Oh yeah, I’ve listened to both of those. Is running podcasts your only job?

Chris: Well mostly, but I do a little of this and that. My main income stream is that I knocked up a lawyer.

After we packed up he congratulated me on leading No Name.

Chris: Dude, when you saw we had Twin Cracks booked up you surprised me. You said you’d “Just do the next one to the left”. But that route is a huge step up in difficulty from Twin Cracks. It’s hands to big hands, overhanging in places and has some brutal flaring pods. Great job getting up it!

Me: Oh, it wasn’t clean. I was way over my head. I’m 71 and nothing is easy anymore. But it was fun, felt very safe.

Chris: Well great job. It was good for our students to see an old guy pulling down hard.

Wednesday April 29 Both me leading and Julia belaying No Name baked us badly. End of April is way too hot. We dragged our tired carcasses up to Chocolate Corner. Julia had been psyching herself up to lead and got up with the usual hangdoggery common at the Creek. It’d been a minute since she has led so I was happy she put a route up, and I was overdue for a top rope.

I followed cleanly but with a lot of huffing and puffing. There is no way I can lead that cleanly anymore. I seem to have aged out of it. We were clearly overdue for a rest day. But we stumbled down to Binous. She racked up then backed off. I’d removed my small cams a couple weeks previously because we were using Fletches and it looked dangerous without some point threes. I probably could have led it by staying in the six inch section, but sanity and tiredness led to us calling it a day around 3pm. So, half a rest day is how it worked out.

Thursday April 30 We felt better after our partial rest day and hiked up to Way Rambo. The river is much lower this spring. The Meat Basin crossing is bone dry. Still the Willows crossing is up to the bumpers. At the parking lot I hit pretty hard and almost high centered. I crawled under to look for damage.

Me: Oh shit I think we hit the gas tank on that last bump. I feel wetness and see active dripping, but it doesn’t smell like gasoline or transmission fluid. Weird, it’s wet all the way up to the springs!

Julia: Mark we just drove through a creek.

Me: That’s called Short Term Memory Loss. Don’t ever get old. It’s not worth it.

I led Blue Sun with two hangs…which was what we call an “UnSend”. Meaning, I’d onsighted it a few years ago and had now climbed it worse. Sending a climb is good, UnSending is…well…not. She ran a couple laps on it. I never top rope, but figured what the hell, no one was there, and at least I “Sent” the TR. I can see how TR’ing can build power and endurance. I need to do more of that and not be such a stick.

I also hung my way up Rochambeau 5.9. It is a lovely corner with a ton of rests. The overhang is intimidating as hell, but I kept convincing myself to “just climb another 4 feet and see”. There is always gear and comforting stem box rests. A great hand jam is never far away.

I left Friday morning at 11:30AM from Moab, arriving home Saturday at 6PM. The big city driving I’d been so worried about passed with little trouble. In the worst of it there was stop and go which is at least slow and controlled. Crazies can’t dart in and out at 80 when everyone is crawling at walking speed. Much of it passed in a blur. Salt Lake city is one very long metropolis. LIke if you squeezed Portland, Olympia, Tacoma, Seattle, Everett and Bellingham all into one metro. Just goes on forever.

Since getting home I spent one day reading my Kindle, moving as little as possible. Today I tried to ride but felt very weak on the single hill.