Holler Robbery

We had a very interesting climbing experience yesterday. We could tell once we left the ground on our warm ups that it was a high gravity day (for all the non-climbers, a high gravity day is an as of yet undocumented phenomenon in which all persons climbing in any given geographical region, unexplainable become much much heavier. It probably doesn't really exist but some days you just feel really damned heavy)! I took two runs on Snooker, a super fun .13a in the Motherlode. True to Leif form, I hung, bobbled, clawed, and fell my way up the route on my first go. My second go was infinitely better, surprising even me when I battled my way to the rest just before the anchors. I was tired but knew I had just enough to get to the chains, fighting as hard as I have in a while, I gave one final burst of energy, placed my feet and launched for the finishing jug.... I didn't catch it however, my right foot broke and sent me hurtling out away from the wall screaming f*@$^r"! I was robbed. Climbers say that all the time when they're so close to victory and then fail, but most of the time it's just an excuse for lack of stamina or poor route knowledge. No, not this time, I was truly robbed. I had it in the bag and it was TAKEN from me. Now I'm not bitter, oh no, I'm just fine and dandy with the whole stinking mess. Lindsay had a less than thrilling go on one of her projects to the left of Snooker called 8 Ball. We hung our heads and ran for the car thinking another cliff might be a wise option.

We ended up at the Gallery, a normally popular area but with the big Rocktober Fest this weekend, all the climbers were at the Motherlode watching the nations hardest athletes do battle on the Undertow wall. What happened at the Gallery was unexpected too. Lindsay took three runs on a severely overhanging crack called Break the Scene. That little beauty checks in at .12b, not THAT tough but in hindsight, I did it once, lowered and said "thank God I never have to do that again". Lindsay too fell at the anchors, twice, going for the chains. She waited quietly for about an hour and said "I think I'll have another go...", who was I to argue? She hiked it, crushed, dispatched, just plain ole' flew up the thing. It was inspiring. Which caused me to try the .13b to it's left and after begging to be shot from the pain in my forearms due to said 5.13, feeling the urge to go back up Break the Scene. It took me ten minutes to untie my knot when I got down. In the end, we each did six pitches, which here is like, 600 feet of climbing (we're used to six pitches equaling 300 feet of climbing). We came home exhausted and beaten, Lindsay chalking one up for team Wyoming, the rock still winning in the greater scheme though.

To quench our sorrows (and our thirsts) we drank margaritas last night...we drank a shit load of margaritas! It's noon now and my head is finally starting to feel better; eggs, bacon, potatoes, and water with Emergen-C in it are on the menu. We may see if we can't find a nap or two this afternoon. Tomorrow, we'll head back out into the fray, given that our skin and muscles are ready to be worked over again. Tuesday marks our second week here, by a mutual Red River Gorge climbing belief held by most everyone, two weeks is the break in "magic number" period. Meaning that after two weeks of climbing here, you become much stronger. We'll see....