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[TR] - It's All Good - Smith Rocks


BirdDog

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In today’s news ….. four marines killed in Afghanistan, thirty-two shitties car bombed in Bagdad, unemployment claims rise, and everything since the Mesozoic era is Obama’s fault… Makes you want to move to Pluto, except Pluto doesn’t have much climbing.

 

With an screaming itch to get out of town over the 4th, and a blown forecast for the alpine I threw out an e-mail for anyone interested in Smith Rocks. I’d been trading e-mails with a guy Greg for a year or so about climbing, but we were never able to coordinate until last weekend. Greg was meeting an old friend “Q” from the east coast at Smith, so I headed down to hook up with them and also met up with Frith and Sophia from cc.com and their friend Mark.

DSC_3279_edited-1.jpgJefferson at Dawn

DSC_3284_edited-1.jpgIt's warming up

 

The six of us headed out to the crags on Saturday morning for some stellar climbing with temps in the 70’s. For six folks who had never climbed together before we had a blast.

Sunday we headed over to the west side of the park, staying in the shade ‘till almost two o’clock. Climbing high above the Crooked River on stellar routes like “Screaming Yellow Zonkers” and “Moons of Pluto” among others, we enjoyed climbing on small nubbins while the snow covered peaks of the Oregon Cascades serving as our scenic backdrop. Nothing but comradery, smiles and fun.

 

DSCN2670_edited-1.jpg

BirdDog on "Screaming Yellow Zonkers" an outstanding .10b, despite the fact there are no outstanding holds on the entire pitch.DSCN2651_edited-1.jpgGreg searching for pockets.DSCN2633_edited-11.jpgSophia on the blcoky start of Moscow.DSCN2639_edited-1.jpg'Q' working the cripms on "Ride the Lighting a .11b

 

.DSCN2708_edited-1.jpgFrith showing us how girls rock on the sustained 2nd pitch of "Trezlar" .10aDSCN2706_edited-1.jpgIt's back- Rosie showing off her neon lycra - Moons of Pluto .10dDSCN2676_edited-1.jpgThere's got to be a hold here somewhere.

 

The rest of the group headed home Monday morning, I grabbed the mtn. bike and explored the park. After touring through the canyon, for some unexplained reason I stated riding up Burma Road, the steep ugly road cut northeast of the park. Sweating like an overheated pig, my quads screaming, I battled up the loose gravel in the afternoon heat. Having no idea of where I was going or why I was going, I ran onto a couple on their way down the road. A real nice pair of locals, they gave me some great directions for a long bike loop that connected back to the west side of the park. With my quads barely a degree shy of spontaneous internal combustion, I topped the grade and was greeted with a screaming two mile or so descent. Oh yea, all downhill now baby! Totally in the zone I rocketed down towards the river with enough speed to float over rocks, sand washes, and the occasional snake. Hooking a left after crossing the irrigation canal I followed indistinct game trails through the high shrub steppe forest. I jumped a giant jack rabbit the size of an average labrador, who high tailed (sic) it out of the way. A minute later I jumped a bedded mule deer out of the sack. Scared the holy bejesus out me, as I damned near rear ended the thing. Way out of control I narrowly escaped a high speed meeting with a gnarly old juniper which had been peacefully existing in the same spot since Buchanan was in the Whitehouse. DSCN2741_edited-1.jpgAll down hill now baby!

 

Soon I picked up the single track near the river leading back to the park. Zipping along enjoying the scenery I didn’t see the kind pair of German tourists on the trail just around the tree. The gentleman grabbed his wife out of the path of my skidding front tire. I apologized, as they dusted themselves off. Kindly they shared their water and a ham and cheese sandwich with me, very tasty. And no I didn’t know where to get good Black Forest ham in Terrebonne Oregon, sorry. Very sweet older couple. I bade them well and wished Germany good luck in the World Cup. Got back to the bivy site I read the history of Smith from Alan Watts new guide, while enjoying a cold one. Very well written, congrats to Alan.

 

On Sunday, Mark had kindly made a trip to get the rest of us more water. On the way he picked up a guy named Patrick, who climbed with us for a while. Tuesday morning I hung out with Patrick and another climber we had run into earlier in the trip. We shared coffee, breakfast, and stories. Patrick was heading to Montana that morning, and having no partner or plan I was loafing in the picnic area. A guy walks up and says “hey, do have a partner today, mine bailed?” We hooked up and headed down across the river towards the crags. Normally I would not hop on a multi pitch with someone I had never climbed with before, but this guy seemed solid. We grunted up Misery ridge trail and did a five pitch 5.8 route on Kiss of The Lepers, had a blast. East for the grade, but lots of fun climbing. Great partner! We grabbed our packs and headed back over Asterisk Pass. Running out of water we managed to get in several more pitches. Wes said “look, five gallon buckets is open and in the shade, you’ve got to do it.” Tired, parched, and pumped; I struggled up on an easy lead on jug holds and huecos big enough to stuff a great dane in; fun climb though I was done for the day.

 

Arriving back at camp at 7PM, I had no food left and I was going to have to take a trip to town. Too parched and wrecked to drive at that point I dragged my lawn chair and a bag of granola scraps over to a spot of shade. Spent, I slumped into the chair only to hear “Are you hungry?” It was a gal I had bestowed the “most stuff ever to be crammed into a Subaru award” earlier that morning. “Come over, we’ve got lots of stir fry; hello I’m Dixie” she said with a smile. I joined her and her two partners. I’m not talking just camp grade stir fry here, or the msg impregnated hu fung yuk you get at the local Imperial Gardens dive. This was gourmet! We’re talking great food served on real plates, with knives and forks no less. No wonder they had so much stuffed in that Outback. My partner Wes joined us when he emerged from the shower. Good food, and good folks; and I didn’t have to drag myself to town. What more could a donkey want.

 

A few weeks ago I was climbing with a guy some twenty years younger than myself. He asked me what had changed in the past thirty years. We were camped at Eightmile, and I responded with “people are less friendly, less open now. BITD, folks would be wondering all over, to each other’s camps, sharing a joint or beer, shooting the shit.” Well I’m happy to saying that spirit is live and well at Smith, at least last week. Watched the sunset with a couple from Vancouver, shared some wine with others. Four kids in an old an 70’s Ford van pulled into the parking lot. They had a uke, banjo, guitar, and a cello. Kicked back half in, half out of the van, they jammed out some tunes. I joined someone sitting in the gravel listening to them play as the last orange light faded to the west. A few other folks quietly joined us until there was a small crowd sitting cross legged in the dirt, the sky turning black as stars emerged. A warm desert wind wrapped around us. Friends have been telling me to get a Facebook page… eh. I’ve met a lot of good people of the years, 99% of which I have never kept in contact with. Maybe I’ll get that Facebook page going. ….it’s all good….

DSC_3291_edited-1.jpgEnd of another fine day

Edited by BirdDog
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A few weeks ago I was climbing with a guy some twenty years younger than myself. He asked me what had changed in the past thirty years. We were camped at Eightmile, and I responded with “people are less friendly, less open now. BITD, folks would be wondering all over, to each other’s camps, sharing a joint or beer, shooting the shit.” Well I’m happy to saying that spirit is live and well at Smith, at least last week.

 

I must say, as a young'n, I try as hard as possible to cruise around to other camps when camping and be sociable. Especially at the skull hollow loop; it's very conducive to drifting because you always end up back at your camp eventually! Every now and then you meet some weirdos, every now and then you meet some really cool folks young and old. Several years ago we drifted into a camp with a good campfire and several long grey beards and were able to hear stories of Smith from well before the first bolts were rap bolted.

 

Cheers to anyone who wants to visit my camp too!

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Beautiful photos! Thanks! Since I had barely been out since last fall, I really appreciated all the rope guns! It was fun following you guys up those 10s. I've decided I should go back later this year and try to lead Moons of Pluto to redeem myself (although I forgot to look at the bolts on the way up...maybe not if they're as run out as on SYZs.) BTW - I went to Squamish last weekend and decided that offwidths are scary even if you're not on lead with a 50ft run out and a ledge. I whined just as much seconding.

 

It was great to meet you!

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