I've made it to the Lander area, and have been pushing through pretty warm conditions to do some rock climbing. For my first three days I sampled the (badass) bouldering here, sending an awesome V8 called "Snakebite Traverse", and also its V9 fingercrack neighbor "Snake Charmer". Yesterday was my first at Wild Iris, and it's absolutely incredible. Everything I imagined and trained for, with mono pockets everywhere. I feel like I'm in heaven. Today I rest and try to heal, but tomorrow it's time to hit some projects hard, and start making a dent in my to-do list!
I figured, for my virtual audience, I should make a list of the positives and negatives of this trip so far. Sitting here and feeling my body ache, it's easy to think of the latter category, but I guess that's how it always is. Judge for yourself, I suppose?
The bad-
-I, in a moment of compete stupidity, did not bring sunscreen. As a result, currently my shoulders and back look as if I got a deep tissue massage from the human torch.
-Breaking in climbing shoes is not an easy process, and in my attempts to do so, both heels have ceased their claims to skin coverage, and instead are now replaced by gigantic bleeding blisters.
-My climbing partner has left for greener pastures (and rock that doesn't hurt his baby-like fingers), and I am now traveling solo again, trying to bum belays.
-My jaw is, like, cramped or something, and I can't currently close my teeth together or chew food with my left molars.
-The pit toilet is out of toilet paper.
Tomorrow, I will wake up, and be greeted by the mountains surrounding me, with the same warmth they greeted the morning's first light as I slept. As I sip my coffee, huddled in a down jacket for warmth, the wind will be my companion, carrying in its wispy fingers stories audible only to those who will listen. And I will listen to these stories as I cook and eat, of lands near and far; of people, places, and impossible landscapes. Of times ancient and modern, and of struggles and triumphs I would never have imagined. I will hoist my pack upon my shoulders then, hiking to the cliff across rolling hills carpeted with a vast array of wildflowers, contrasting the brutal environment surrounding with a multi-colored canvas of beauty and life, laughing in the face of the dry air as it weathers everything surrounding but their fragile petals. I will stand beneath the rock, fingers upon the first holds, and with a deep breath I will begin climbing, my mind totally invested, everything else fading away, until it is only myself and the rock before me, flowing underneath my fingertips, urging me upward yet simultaneously pushing me towards the ground. And in that moment, nothing else will matter, not my shoulders, jaw, gnarled fingers, or bleeding heels. Only the landscape that has adopted me as it's own, and all the vibrancy that comes along with it. And as I walk back to camp, the sun setting fire to the mountains behind me with its uncontainable burning passion for the world it warms, the emotion bursting from my chest will be something deeper than happiness. It will be an incredible mix of joy, clarity, exhaustion, and flow, and in that moment, I will remember why I turned the key in this van for the first time, and pointed it westward, driving away from familiarity into this setting sun.
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