Taking advantage of the westerly breeze that was sweeping the smell of rendered carcas oil away from Minnehaha, I had a nice bouldering session the other night. It was a lovely evening, as the cops weren't making "much" noise shooting guns across the river, and the air traffic was minimal.
Just a standard evening of making the world a better place for you slobs: I filled my chalk bag with the dropped chalk nuggets of a handful of careless climbers, picked up empty Busch cans and some discarded condoms, cleared 6-8 ounces of broken glass from the landings.
I came across a large wad of discolored toilet paper near "Tarantula Traverse", but since my dog didn't roll in it I asertained that it wasn't what I thought it was. I took this as a good omen, picked it up and continued with the pump.
At the right end of my first lap I spied, by ambient vehicle light, a freaking 3/8" hole in the rock at eye level. Now my first thought was that this was another glory hole, like the one Marty installed under the "Battle of the bulge", but the 3/8" diameter hole is probably too small for anyone but Donny to take advantage of (perhaps Donny needed a new place to practice his "no hands rests").
Anyways, Donny if you are the rogue driller, you should know that hell is coming.
Whosoever shall desecrate my church shall feel my wrath. Whosoever shall pollute my stones will regret.
mountainninja