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.

Note to self

You can easily carry 20+ cans of Old Style in your bag while riding you bike in the midst of one of Omaha's ghetto friendly areas. Even as late as 0330.        Noted

Tasty

When you find something that you really enjoy it's only appropriate to share it. That's what I have going on here. Peanut butter and Jelly. This is literally the most tasty pb&j I have ever had. There's no secret ingredients, just plain old good products. If you are lucky enough to have a CostCo card (I hobo in with my brother), their organic peanut butter and the organic jelly is f#ckin' rad. 

The peanut butter is Kirkland brand and the jelly is SunSpire. The jelly is has to have crack in it. I eat it by the spoonful straight out of the jar and pile it on whatever so much that it drips off the sides. The peanut butter has it's share of hassles, but after briefly trying another brand, I realized just how good the stuff from CostCo is. You'll get addicted, and the jelly will make you cuss. 

Now, when I said I wanted to share my tasty toppings with you, I don't want you to come over and bogart my goods. Get your own dammit! Oh, and they are both organic!

Boy Crying Ralph

After checking out a possible secret climbing crag (don't get too excited, the easiest route would be mid-11s to low 12s) I totally missed a meeting to buy some photo gear from a buddy. On top of that I was super late to shoot some photos at Granite City for their Octoberfest party. The party got slammed, going thru 30 gallons of the 'fest brew in 90 minutes and by the time I got there, there was no food left, but the place was still packed. I guess my brother tried to call me to know even bother coming, but I still did.

I had dinner with Matty and about half way through dinner, I got super sickly. Absolutely horrible stomach pains! I was for sure I was gonna hurl, but it never happened at GC. I eventually managed the courage to drive home and waddled out to my car, bent over in pain. I made it to Saddle Creek when it hit me...

I quickly pulled over, and reached in back for a towel or napkins or something. I found some paper (really helpful) and wandered around outside the car in the lawn of some small business. I could just feel it coming when I remembered I had napkins in the glove compartment. I fisted a handful of those as my mouth got extra wet, and I dropped to my knees on the sidewalk with my head over the grass. I felt like I was looking for my children and their friend that happened to be an ant (Honey I Shrunk the Kids reference), getting hot and sweat, mouth watering, stomach feeling like I have a motorcycle spinning cookies in it. 

but then. Nothing. Nothing would happen.

I fell over sideways onto the sidewalk and absorbed the coolness into my body. I lay there in front of the white two story building, noticing that I left two car doors open and wondering where my keys were. It passed. The evil inside me moved on. I returned to my car and came home feeling completely fine within 30 minutes. What the hell? 

I was pretty mad-- I left half a beer at dinner, damn it!