Adventures of the Dashboard Deities

     After a much briefer hiatus, here comes a brand spankin' new life update. Although I'm still in the Salt Lake City vicinity, American Fork is old news. It was fun, historic, and humbling, but partners weren't plentiful (anyone sensing a theme of this trip?), and the climbing all ended in a masochistic layback roof crack. So the van was packed up on a whim, and pointed south to the promised land, otherwise known as Maple Canyon. Yeah, that's right, the place with the cobbles. Cliffs made out of millions of smaller rocks. No friction whatsoever. Routes with twenty plus draws, and more kneebars than even the laziest of sport climbers could find in Rifle. I'm terrible at this stuff. No power required, nothing tweaky in any sense of the word, just straight overhung endurance. Though the first week or so was somewhat frustrating, things have begun to look up as I've started to learn the style, and gotten used to being constantly (and I mean constantly) pumped.  

     It's been awhile since the last post, but I promise all is well; I (and, more importantly, the van) am well intact, and still wrestling up rocks and calling it fun. I had planned to save this post until after a send of my most noteworthy goal of the trip, "Throwing the Houlihan". And man, was I close to writing that victorious entry. Each of the four times I touched the finish jug, my mind began to imagine what I'd write. "I was inspired by Todd Skinner's Wild Iris masterpiece ever since I saw it in a video while still a young gym climber...". But I guess it wasn't to be. Early in my time at the Iris, I found some great partners willing to belay my heartbreaking send attempts, but after an amazing newlywed couple left back home for St. Louis, I was high and dry. I would spend my days sitting under the route reading, hoping for a belayer to come by, and hoping with even greater intensity I would be warm and ready to give a good attempt should suc