Happy Father's Day!
The wife said I could do whatever I want today; but I don't think copious amounts of alcohol at the strip club were actually sanctioned activities, so I figured a nice hike with a bit of climbing would be better for my overall health and well-being.
C-hill is relatively unremarkable here in Carson, the main feature being a landmark letter C that spontaneously metamorphosizes into whatever two digit number represents the majority of graduating high school seniors that year. You can approach it via 4x4 trail and a long uphill hike, or paved road and an equally long uphill hike. The dog and I elected the long uphill hike.
Missing photo ID#415456 It's really only a mile or so; but with a pack full of climbing gear and 90 degree heat, it felt much more like 10 miles of high school gymnastics hell redux. How anyone can convince a group of graduating high school seniors to hike up there as a cohesive unit AND manhandle a bunch of rocks into something resembling a legible twin digit numerical sequence is beyond fathom. I digress.
Missing photo ID#415457 Anyway, after sweating up the beaten path, we found ourselves at the base of a short crack (nothing is terribly tall up here; just enough to fall off and regret not having life insurance, three pads, and a Spock's rocket boots) which I'd seen some time ago. I racked up, tied the dog (and the rock) to the end of the rope, and proceeded to climb, or at least I've convinced myself it resembles climbing.
Missing photo ID#415458 Some 8 whole feet later, I found myself convinced that a. This rock is made of grease! The two-finger pocket is not enough for me. b. I am not a bad-ass rock climber. I just play one in my own mind. c. Friable rock that goes 'pop' when you touch it does not a cool and collected mind make. d. French free is nearly as good as French fries. In the case of only one, however, do you want to eat it.
Missing photo ID#415459 Missing photo ID#415464 I pulled on gear through several feet of the crux, including a crap, tipped out dual stem #4 camalot that made me regret leaving the big 6 in the car, and brass nut on a flared out crystal just to be able to brag about my brass nuts. Man, they're tiny, and I don't play with them enough.
Missing photo ID#415460 Continuing to ascend the route (free, mind you. Nobody got paid!), I managed to pass the loose block o death at the top to find it's been done before, and somebody kept the hangers. Two bolts, probably RDA et al. I had finally climbed the damn thing with all the style and grace of a drunk cat in a moving van on a cobblestone street with potholes.
Missing photo ID#415461 The rest of my fathers day was actually spent in the presence of my wife and children, partaking in family-friendly adventures flying kites, fishing, bbqing, and reading bedtime stories. Hope the rest of you thoroughly enjoyed your day too!
Missing photo ID#415463