The Hazard Chronicles

 Right now it is Tuesday morning. I feel like I just woke up from a dream that lasted for the past four days. I have to admit, it was a bit jarring going into work this morning, seeing all the regular people, doing all the regular things. Carrying on as if things were just...normal. But they weren't. It wasn't a dream.

It was amazing.

*****

Last Thursday, I got off work a few hours early and my Dad drove Rachel and me to the airport. My parents had driven up the day before and would watch the kids for the next four days. Rach and I, on the other hand, would be off doing "us things." No kids. No work. No worries. Just two best friends hanging out in one of the coolest places ever.

Las Vegas.

But not that Las Vegas. To be honest, we could very well do without all the trashy neon lights, the ample glitz, and and boisterous, unrestrained excesses of the strip. It is kind of a blight, as far as I am concerned, on an otherwise beautiful location. 

No, the Vegas we went for looks more like this:

Red Rocks may be one of my favorite places on earth- especially in the shoulder seasons. The extraordinary beauty of the area is awe-inspiring, and the sunrises will never get old. For four days, this was our view every morning as we approached our various destinations, each one a gem hidden deep within these canyons. The time we spent here was sacred to us. I was often overcome with emotion just to be in a place like this, with my favorite person in the world, doing my favorite things.

In keeping with our established pattern for trips like this, our days were full of activity and our nights were full of leisure. It is difficult, at this time, to go back and give a play-by-play account of things, and I think doing so would actually subtract from the description of the experiences we had. Rather than remembering individual events, my thoughts of this trip are more like those I have after finishing a really good book. I mean, things happened, and we could break it down into it's small little scenes. There was excitement, fear, intense conversations, surprising plot twists, laughter, tears, and complete unbridled joy. But really, at the end, after arriving back at home, it isn't like those individual moments matter so much as the entirety of it all just washing over me, again and again and again. This was the kind of trip that makes me feel like I need to take the next several weeks just to...process. You know?

*****

Anyone who has known me for longer than about ten seconds knows that I am completely and unapologetically passionate about rock climbing. And I have tried many times, unsuccessfully of course, to articulate to myself why the pursuit holds such power over me. It is completely irrational- that much I understand. 

The closest I have come is to say that it strikes a perfect balance between athleticism, artistry, and stoicism, with undertones of laughter, fun, recklessness, friends around the campfire, adventure, story telling, early mornings, and clear starry nights. Moreover, each of these aspects combine in different ways on every climb, like colors in a kaleidoscope, making it impossible to ever do the same route twice. It is always a unique and memorable experience. 

Sometimes though, these colors blend in such a  distinctive and surprising way that I am just knocked completely on my heels and words become nonsensical as a means of expression. It would be like trying to describe Beethoven's 5th to a deaf person. It doesn't work. It can only be experienced. And that- that desire to store an experience in a little bottle made up of words and pictures, is what I feel this blog entry is about. But it won't work. It can just be remembered.

Well, it's certainly a memory worth holding onto.

*****

On top of Crimson Chrysalis- one of the coolest routes I have done

Rachel has become an excellent climbing partner, and I climb more efficiently with her than with any partner I have ever had. She led some great pitches, cleaned gear quickly, and made our transitions last less than two minutes apiece. It is fun to see the ground just drop away beneath us as we make time up the rock.

Another one on Crimson Chrysalis

This is the third pitch of a climb called Dark Shadows, and was probably my favorite pitch of the trip. Look closely and you can see Rachel jamming her way up the perfect corner. I just have to add here that Rachel has really taken climbing and made it her own. This is especially evident on climbs like this one, where careful technique beats strength on most days. Even after a lifetime of climbing, it is neat for me to watch her finesse her way up a crack in areas where I would just go into thug mode and grab tiny face holds. 

So good!

A little inside joke here. Rach wanted me to protect the traverse well. It turned out to be like 5.3 (very easy) but I sewed it up anyway with no fewer than 6 pieces in about 15 feet. She wasn't going anywhere!

Here's me on the rappel of Birdland. This little finger crack was really cool.

I had to laugh at this picture. People have pointed out to us that it would seem Rachel and I live in different seasons. It's true. Here's me with three layers on while Rachel is skipping along like we're in the middle of the desert or something. Wait...

Evenings were fun too. Each day we were done with our long climb around lunchtime. We did a little sport climbing most afternoons, and then partied at night. This is at an upscale little "speakeasy" that mimics the many Vegas establishments during the prohibition era. From the period décor to the live music on stage, it was a great experience.

Don't Tell Mama is a piano bar we came to love in New York a few years ago. The Vegas location was almost (but not quite) as good!

The Calico Hills- where we spent many afternoons. This is where we tried hard, took falls, and left plenty of blood, sweat, and tears behind on the rock. Climbing hard is its own sort of fun.

Jelly beans for power! Again, a little bit of an inside joke. I always carry Swedish Fish in my bouldering pack, and "Fish for Power" has become a thing of mine before most sessions. Well, I ran out of fish, but Rach came through with these. They didn't work as well, but they got the job done.

Scoping out the route

Working the route. This is what 80 percent of hard sport climbing looks like- sitting around recovering before the next attempt. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Also, I should add here that I had one "mini project" that I came back to several times during the trip. In the end, I came very close but didn't send (I had to hang on the rope for about 5 seconds before pulling back on). It was a little disappointing, but only a little. To me, the process of working a route is far more fun than actually clipping chains. I mean, it's always nice when the hard work pays off in the end, but I don't feel like I lost that much in walking away and leaving something to come back for.

Alright- that's about all I have to write. Again, I don't know how to put it into words, but it really was a wonderful extended weekend. Rachel sure is a cool wife.

Have a good week!