Being back in the Northern Hemisphere, I don't know why I left Peru. That is, stack aside the obligations and my gut in a tumultuous boil I don't know why. I can only speak for myself, but I see it among my friends, and in the stories of those fellow moths clinging to the flame. The one thing a climber tries to become good at is balance. Balance of the obligations of the heart, and of the petty world. Time and again there have been tears along the seams of my being as to what direction to take. There are those of us who equate living with climbing and anything short is stifling the flame. There is a level of seemingly inherent selfishness that results from the passion of climbing. It is keeping this selfishness at a reasonable plateau that requires more elegance than I feel I have in me at times. It is with this bit soul spew that I dedicate this Trip Report to Matt. Foremost a friend, and a damn good climbing partner.
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Roughly four or five years ago I came across a skinny guy making a solid effort to not look the part of a a newbie at the climbing gym I worked at. I had recently moved to Grand Junction and was having a hard time finding decent climbing partners. Decent in terms of good people. Within a year I was struggling to keep up with him. I had lit a flame among the driest kindling. Over the next many years we climbed anything we could. We weathered personal problems. We had climbing. I have been the tiredest, happiest, hungriest, thirstiest, most scared, and angry in the presence of him.
So as another chapter in life unfolds and balance is maintained or broken for a period, we took off for some climbing before Matt took a new job that would keep him in the field rigging zip lines for four months at a time.
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Two days before we are scheduled to leave winter hits. Grand Junction getting a foot and not reaching above 10 degrees all day. We beg our ride to leave earlier but to no avail. We pass the time complaining. Soon we are on our way and are in reservation territory marveling at the plethora of uses for the car tire.
We arrive at Queen Creek late and set up camp by the glow of the mine
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We are excited at the prospect that it is night and only 30 degrees.
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The morning greets us with clouds and the campground is a shithole of trash.
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Alas it is still warmer than home so we set off to the cliffs of Queens Creek skeptical of the place. The sun melts the clouds and we have an excellent first day of pulling pockets shirtless as the locals shiver in their down jackets and hats.
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One of the few pictures of me
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We leave with the sun but go southward to spend a night in the hotel of a friend of ours doing some geologic mapping. The next day we are up early en-route to Cochise.
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Neither of us having been to Cochise we are floored with the amount of rock and lack of people. First stop was Owl rock which proved to be as classic as promised. Matt Took a lap and up I went slinging chicken heads, smiling.
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Matt checks out the backside of the tower finding a steep climb up the overhanging face. We both give it a whirl. Great climb!
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WE go Make camp and walk over to take a look at Skinner's Dominatrix.
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Through the night we tried to shield ourselves from eyes in the night.
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In the Morning we head out to do some more classics. Matt heads off doing a wickedly fun arete
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I climb up Beeline which offers splitter fingers for a few feet.
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Matt and I are both impressed at the level of friction on the rock. We are so unused to it. It is worlds different to slab climbing in the desert. Matt inflated from the friction decides to give a hard slab route a go. He makes it high but it becomes blank and impossible for us. I give it a toprope baffled at where one would go to finish the route.
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The Whole day large dark clouds passed beneath the sun giving the day an intensify
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We head back down and Matt wants to get on Dominatrix. The crack is hard. Off the ground you get a few hand jams then you place a good piece and do dynamic moves on a slanted over hung crack that forces you to put protection where you badly want your fingers to go. Half way up and spanked we decide to toprope it.
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After Too Much scotch and a late morning we warmed with the sun as lizards. A quick wash and drying of sleeping bags, we decided to venture to Hueco Tanks.
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We had been having issues of fully enjoying Cochise because of having three to our party.
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We arrived at the rock ranch and were worried over not having reservations for anything. We hoped that we could just wake up early and be the first at the gates. We grumbled in our sleepy states at the politics of Hueco Tanks, but by the time we left we came to understand their necessity in preserving an amazing place. In a sense protecting it from ourselves.
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We waited at the gate until it opened and were one of the last few people issued passes. Matt was skeptical of driving such a distance for bouldering, but he soon understood. The dynamics of waiting in lines are an ugly thing. I believe they bring out the worst in people. Anticipation of forbidden fruits.
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Worn to the quick and pumped we plan to wake up and do the same cattle call again. This time a car was in front of us. After our initial animosity of possibly getting screwed out of climbing that day we got to know Danille who has been roadtripping and on her way to Tahoe. We all had a great day of climbing.
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Fully Spent, we jumped into the car and switch off as our heads nodded behind the wheel. 11 hours later we were thirty degrees colder and I was to get on a plane in the next day or so to start my journey to Peru. Furthering my avoidance of the cold. Matt was to leave while I was gone to North Carolina only to start his job, only to have the cold chase and bear down on him.
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A climber's life is highlighted by these radiant points in our lives where living is simple, and we can exhale with each move with out the pressure of life to constrict. But in our craving for simplicity we weave a complex web.
