In a Day Of...

Airplanes, hand jams, hours of mountain roads, compromised credit cards, duck canvas cotton, finger locks, Yosemite jail and sushi.

That was last week in the Valley. Is there more to say? Of course, but as the final evening light became fastly fleeting in the mountain fields filled with friends, my desire to doodle details about it does the dwindle. I was blissfully hoping to get my blog on a nightly basis, but that became a battle because I was busy beautifully basking in the bear infested back-woods belaying, bleeding, and barking belligerently from beer below the bows of bay leaves and bark covered buck eyes bringing bags under my blue eyes before this boy could become brilliantly driven to document his darn dandy days of delightfulness. Or maybe I just lacked motivation.

I'd say just to stay tuned for pictures, but since I didn't shoot a lick of climbing photos, that won't seem to help much. My climbing line up and days basically went as follows. (I'd like to take this moment to blame The Drill Sergeant for my lack of climbing images. He just has no respect for the artistic conception and preparation it takes to shoot good climbing photography. Take your Rick pill. WWJBD. He turned into a little blister. :) )

Coffee. Serenity Crack. Coffee (11.36 for 3 small cups from the Ahwahnee Hotel). Lunch in El Cap meadow followed by Cookie Crack. Beer, wine, pasta.

Coffee. Bushwhack to Washington Column. Astroman. Breaking in new Anasazis. Bailing off the crux pitch. Back to camp. Lunch. Moby Dick on base of El Cap. Bleeding and pain. Beer, wine, brats and baked beans. Bears.

Coffee. Royal Arches. Anasazis broke in, broke me. North Dome Gully Decent. Beer and sushi.

Coffee. Lax morning. Credit card corruption. After Seven on Manure Pile Buttress. Beer. Pizza. Beer. Friends put in jail. Bears.

Coffee. Strip down camp. Clear out friend's hotel room in El Portal. Shower. Find mommy. Hang in Valley. Wine. One last night of camping.


Retrieve friend from Jail. Return to Sacramento. Recuperate from Yosemite.

One shower, two pairs of socks, 4 pairs of Mountain Khakis, 30 pitches, one new credit card, 10 gigs of non-climbing photos, countless cuts and bruises from sticking my hands, arms, legs and feet in places they probably don't belong, my week of the Valley cooks off to an end. Soon all that will be left is a dirty dish with stains of food baked around it's white stone wear edge. Time to bury the nose in Lightroom.