The art of dreaming, and why fairytales sometimes require their fair share of blood, sweat, and tears
*Note: this post is quite long. If you are not my parents, please feel no obligation to read it in its entirety. The first section is a life update, the second a somewhat humorous look at climbing ethics, and the third a short story I've been writing between climbing sessions. Feel free to skip any or all of these that do not personally interest you. This summer has been a dream. I'm honestly not sure how else to say it, though the statement sounds like a complete cliche even as I type it. There's so much to describe (and so long since I've last done so) that it's hard to even think of where to begin. After Tensleep, Alex and I headed south to Wild Iris, and a route that's been humbling, injuring, and frustrating me for the past three years. Throwing the Houlihan; a Todd Skinner classic and the first of its (quite sandbagged) grade sent by an American. I've been through the emotional rollercoaster on this piece of stone, fallen everywhere I possib