The Clamor

Jesse told me to "get to bloggin'!" Well, it wasn't quite so harsh, but his feelings are well founded. I've ignored Abaluba lately, but I take solace in the idea that I've been working on a longer essay about my Red Rocks experience, as well as running around like a madman lately.

When I got back from Nevada, my workload had piled up and I had a ton of stuff to do. I suppose that'll happen when you leave for a week and don't really tell any of the people you work for/with. I figured that I'd deal with an emergency via Blackberry, and leave the rest for my return. Well, my return was hectic. I was run down after the initial weekend in Vegas, as a body will do after it gets no sleep and dances like a maniac for hours on end. Remember, though, that I spent the next few days hiking back to big routes, and then climbing all day. By the time I was back to CO, I had almost nothing left. I needed some rest.

Unfortunately, I didn't really get that required downtime. As I said, I was so buried at work that I'd get up early to head to the office. After the mind blowing climbs like The Rainbow Wall (mega post to come) I was ultra motivated to train, so after work, I'd head to Movement and work out until late, and then go to bed around midnight. For the week after Red Rocks, this was the program. And then my body shut down.

I started feeling bad on Friday evening, and felt like I was getting the flu. I remember thinking that it must be exhaustion, and my symptoms were mentally derived, but I still felt like hell. I woke up Saturday morning, but couldn't even eat. I just went back to sleep, and stayed prone all day. When I woke up at about 8 PM, I wolfed down some scrambled eggs and a few pieces of toast, caught a basketball game on TV, and then passed out again for another 8 hour nap. All told, I slept for about 36 hours. I woke up Sunday like nothing had happened, and then went climbing with my buddy Mike Patz.

Mike and I also just went out towards Unaweep Canyon and Indian Creek, hopeful that we'd find somewhere in the West that wasn't 40 degrees and raining. Between a power session bouldering on the Plethora boulder in Unaweep, just a quick 15 minutes south of Grand Junction, and then two days of that world class crack climbing in Indian Creek, I'm back to that contented exhaustion. The difference is that this week, I'm going to try to remember to get plenty of rest.

As a quick report, I tried to get back on Quarter of a Man while I was out in the Creek, and just like last time, I fell from the top of the route. It's pretty disappointing to climb 110 feet, have one final hard move, but to be so pumped that you can't even see straight....and then airborne. I took another big whip from the crux, and couldn't help but feel like this single pitch of rock climbing is about as full value and high quality as it gets. "Quarter" is a full 35 meter pitch that runs the gauntlet of those individually-easy-but-cumulatively-crushing sizes...off fingers and super tight hands. I feel like I can do it next try, but given that Rifle season is coming, that might not be until the autumn.

The Creek has been there for a few million years, so I feel pretty secure in my belief that it'll be there in 6 months. By the way, standing out there, looking onto the desert above Canyonlands, it's hard not to be moved nearly to tears. I would have loved to be an Indian, living out there a few thousand years ago, with just my tribe and nature for company. It's still a remarkably beautiful place, and I'm glad I can enjoy it, but the steady stream of cars and tourists (myself included) seem to sully the remote beauty, just a bit. A tough paradox. I love that place, but in so doing, I worry that I diminish it. I only hope that I can respect it's power and beauty when I'm there.